


La Belle au bois dormant

by Rae666



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Magic Revealed, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae666/pseuds/Rae666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana returns and 'Emrys' is forced to make an appearance. But as Gwen falls prey to magic, friendships are tested and secrets revealed. Are Merlin and Arthur strong enough to endure it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Set after season 4
> 
> Spoilers: Up to and including season 4
> 
> A/N: I've had Merlin completely on the brain lately and have been suffering from withdrawels from lack of new episodes... So this came about. Another Merlin fic that I've been toying with for awhile and have finally got around to writing. It's another reveal fic too because I'm completely obsessed with Arthur finding out about Merlin's magic.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I have enjoyed writing it so far.

Camelot was peaceful.

The skies were blue, the city filled with people once more, the air filled with cheer. It had been slow getting there, slow rebuilding a broken kingdom, but get there they did. Rebuild they did. And so Camelot was peaceful once more. Arthur was her king and Guinevere her queen. Smiles, laughter, even song, spread out through the castle and out onto the streets. Swords clashed only for practise and tears shed only from happiness.

And yet...

Merlin sat upon the steps to the castle, unease resting on his features, brow burrowed and lips turned down into a frown. He watched the comings and goings of the people in the courtyard, only partly paying attention as the rest of his mind was lost in thoughts that lingered elsewhere.

Morgana. She was gone. She had been defeated. But something just didn't feel right with Merlin. The way she had vanished... He hadn't done that, he knew he hadn't. Not even by accident. Which meant Morgana had escaped and he had no way of knowing if she was dead or alive, though in his heart, he could feel it was the latter. She was still out there.

"Ah, Merlin, there you are!" Arthur's voice broke through Merlin's thoughts, the young king jogging down the steps to where Merlin sat.

Merlin raised his eyes to meet the expectant gaze of Arthur, wary as something niggled at the back of his mind, like a forgotten memory. "Here I am..?"

"Well?" Arthur asked, arms spread out in questioning, eyebrows raised in impatience. "Where is it?"

Merlin dropped his gaze in thought and clucked his tongue before answering. "Ah yes, the erm... the..."

"The gift, Merlin," Arthur supplied, words sharp and smile tight, "the one you were meant o be collecting so I can present it to Gwen. Tonight. At the celebrations."

"Oh... Oh!" Yes!" Merlin sprang to his feet, grin spreading across his features as he dusted himself off. "The gift! I was just on my way to get it right now!"

"And I suppose you were just readying yourself?" Arthur questioned, disbelief settling in his eyes. He motioned to where Merlin had been sitting. "Resting those overly weak muscles of yours."

"Just because I don't swing a sword around all day doesn't mean I'm weak."

"No," Arthur answered, smile still tight and eyes devious, "the fact that you're weak makes you weak."

Merlin scoffed. "Goes to show what you know then."

But Arthur just raised an eyebrow. "Merlin...?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"The gift."

"Right away, _Sire_." Offering an excessively low bow, Merlin grinned up at Arthur before taking his leave and heading away from the castle and to the streets of Camelot.

Chatter filled the air and Merlin caught snippets of conversations as he passed through the crowds. The streets were thrumming with excitement and speculation, all focused on one thing. Queen Guinevere. There was to be a weeklong celebration dedicated to her crowning. Lords and Ladies, along with the Kings and Queens who remained on good terms with Camelot, had been invited.

Arthur had gone to great lengths to ensure the whole affair was a success, determined to make up for the time he had lost with Gwen. Merlin recalled their conversation clearly, and the way Arthur had paced his chambers, trying to think of the perfect gift.

 _"Flowers?"_ Merlin had suggested.

 _"Too small."_ Arthur had replied.

 _"Jewellery?"_

 _"Too showy."_

 _"A horse?"_

 _"Too bi- wait. Maybe..."_

And so a horse it was. But not just any horse. No, Arthur couldn't have that. Arthur wanted it to be perfect. Arthur had to have the best horse he could find which was to be delivered that morning and Merlin was to collect said horse and take her up to her new home where she would wait to be presented to the new queen that evening.

He continued on through the heaving crowds until he arrived at the gates of Camelot. A man stood there waiting, horse by his side. She was beautiful, as Arthur said she would be. Her coat was as black as night, a perfect healthy shine to it, and she stood tall and proud, almost regal, as if she already knew where she were headed. Merlin approached and held out a hand to her, stroking her nose gently. He looked to the man and the man gazed toward the sky, his thoughts seemingly lost to the clouds overhead.

"Excuse me?" Merlin questioned, unsure whether the man had heard him approach.

The man remained silent, his grip slack on the lead, an almost dreamlike expression in place on his features.

Merlin frowned, removing his hand from the horse to wave it in front of the man's face instead. "I'm here on behalf of King Arthur."

That seemed the snap the man out of whatever daydream he had been in the middle of. He blinked, once and then twice, before lowering his gaze and taking Merlin in, his brow burrowed, questioning. "King Arthur?"

Matching the man's furrowed brow, Merlin narrowed his eyes and cast a glance around him for any other men with horses. "I'm sorry, I think I might have the wrong person."

"You're here for the horse!" The man grinned brightly, head tilted to the side, his gaze still distant and giving Merlin the impression that the man's mind was still off elsewhere.

"This is the horse?" Merlin questioned. "The one for King Arthur?"

"This is the one," the man answered, patting her gently on the shoulder. "Beautiful, ain't she?"

Merlin nodded unsurely in reply and took the lead as the man offered it up. Only when the man made to leave did Merlin speak again. "What about your payment?"

"It's already been seen to," the man called over his shoulder, voice almost sing song, his gaze drifting upward once more toward the clouds.

For a long moment, Merlin watched the man, that twinge of unease settling once more in the back of his mind and the pit of his stomach. He shook it away though once the man was out of view. After all, it was entirely possible for an event to be held in Camelot without something suspicious happening. Merlin was sure it was, though he couldn't really think of a time when something suspicious hadn't happened. But there had to be one...

"Right," he said, spinning on the spot to head back toward the castle. He guided the horse gently along, stroking her mane every so often.

"You know," he said to the horse, glancing sideways to look her in the eye, "if I didn't know any better, I would say I know you from somewhere."

"Talking to animals now, are we, Merlin?"

An arm found its way around Merlin's shoulders and he turned his head a little to see Gwaine grinning at him.

"I didn't take you for the horse whispering type," the knight continued on, that ever present glint in his eyes suggesting he was either up to no good or just plain looking for mischief.

Merlin narrowed his eyes on the knight, a smile of his own twisting at his lips as he attempted to decide which it was, though judging by the lack of shouts and cries, he figured it was the latter. "I thought you were meant to be helping with preparations for the feast."

"You mean doing the heavy lifting?" Gwaine asked, a light chuckle to his words. "I left it to Percival. Strong as an ox that one."

"So basically, you're slacking off then?"

"I prefer to call it 'resting up for a night of merriment'."

"Gwaine!" a second voice called out from ahead of them. Merlin didn't need to look to know who it was, but his eyes found their way toward Elyan all the same, his features frustrated – no doubt from having to track down Gwaine.

Gwaine let go of a breath and removed his arm from around Merlin's shoulders, patting him on the back as he did so. "And that's my cue to run."

Before Merlin could say anything or even think of a reply, Gwaine dashed off. Not toward Elyan but toward a small alley between two houses. Elyan didn't hesitate in taking off after him, his feet thudding against the dirt ground. All Merlin heard when the second knight passed by was a grumble beneath his breath, a faint murmur of, "I'm going to kill him."

Merlin shook his head and left them to it. He could already imagine Elyan dragging Gwaine back the castle once he had finally caught up. The image put a smile on his face and he continued on.

When he reached the stables, Arthur was there waiting for him, arms crossed in front of his chest, foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

"You took your time," he snapped, which Merlin took to mean 'thank you ever so much, Merlin. You are a fantastic servant and friend and should have a day off for all that hard work you've done'.

"It's not exactly a short walk from the castle to edge of the city. If you ever had to walk it yourself, you would know that," Merlin retorted, coming to a stop and turning his attention toward the horse instead.

"What is that?" Arthur questioned, words sharp and bitter. His arms fell to his side and he moved forward to inspect the horse.

"I believe, _Sire_ , that it's a horse."

"But it's not _the_ horse."

"Not _the_ horse?" Merlin repeated, brow furrowing and eyes narrowed. He looked to the horse and then to Arthur.

"Yes, Merlin – that's not the horse."

"Are you sure?"

Jaw tightening, Arthur swung to glare at Merlin. "I think I should know which horse I bought."

"And this horse isn't the one?"

"Are you being deliberately thick today, Merlin, or has that tiny little brain of yours finally decided to give out? No! That's not the horse!" Arthur shook his head, looking over the horse once more before motioning to it. "The one I saw was chestnut and it had this... _thing_ on it's head."

"Thing?" Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow, his gazed moving once more between the horse and Arthur.

"Yes, a thing!" Arthur motioned to the head of the horse now with his finger. "Right here... a white patch in the shape of a star."

"Hmmm," Merlin offered up, pursing his lips before clucking his tongue. "Well, that's a bit strange, isn't it?"

Once more Arthur rounded on him, eyes locked on Merlin and jaw set so firmly that Merlin was sure it must have been causing Arthur some kind of pain. "A bit strange? _Mer_ lin, where is my horse?"

"Well I don't know, do I?" Merlin asked. "You just sent me to collect it and this was the only one there. Maybe next time when you buy a horse you should take it there and then."

Arthur took a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding it before breathing out again. Merlin just watched him, a questioning frown on his face.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked when Arthur had yet to open his eyes.

"If you must know, Merlin," Arthur answered, voice still tight but somewhat calmer, "I am trying to stop myself from having you thrown in the stocks."

"So this is my fault now?"

At that, Arthur opened his eyes, rage and frustration returning once more. "Who else could be to blame if not you?"

"Let me think... how about the bloke you bought the horse from? Or, just maybe the one who decided to buy a horse and have it _delivered_ rather than bringing it back himself?"

"And where in the world was I supposed to hide a horse, Merlin?"

"In the stables?"

And Merlin had to admit, Arthur was doing a wonderful job at restraining himself, though perhaps that was because the only thing within reach to throw at Merlin was the horse... and that was too big to lift. After a series of incoherent grumbles, Arthur lost some of the tension in his shoulders and reverted to speaking English once more.

"Just... put it in the stables," he finally breathed out, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of the stables before uttering a small warning toward Merlin, "I just hope for your sake, Merlin, that this one turns out to be even better than the one that I'm _supposed_ to be giving Gwen tonight."

* * *

The festivities and celebrations continued on. By the time the sun was gone from the sky to be replaced by stars, the majority of the guests had moved into the great hall, ready for the feast that would follow. Arthur and Gwen sat at the lead table, waiting for the remaining stragglers to make their way in and find their seats, and Merlin stood behind, ready to fill their goblets.

When the last of the guests made it into the hall, Arthur stood and the chatter that had filled the hall fell away, a hushed silence taking hold.

"Welcome, friends and guests of Camelot," he called out, voice clear and strong. "Thank you for coming to share in these joyous celebrations."

One hand around his goblet, he held the other out to Gwen and she took it, rising gently from her seat. Once she was standing, Arthur raised his goblet, head held high.

"To Guinevere, Queen of Camelot."

The crowd of guests echoed the sentiment, their own goblets held in the air as they joined in the toast, a choir of voices calling out for Gwen.

Behind it all, Merlin smiled as he looked out over the hall and then to Arthur and Gwen once more. Their happiness spread out like a warmth, a blanket on a cold winter's day, a ray of sunlight breaking through in a raging storm. It brought hope for Camelot and for peace, and to Merlin, it brought hope for a united Albion.

"To Guinevere," he joined in, the words a whisper beneath his breath, "Queen of Camelot."

A second and late reply called out, cutting over Merlin and breaking through the cheer.

"To Guinevere," the voice called out, louder than any of the others, feminine and gentle. It matched the owner perfectly, a small woman, plain but fair, all eyes drawn to her as silence fell once more in the hall. "Queen of Camelot."

She stepped forward, away from the open doors and into the hall, hair the colour of sand, long and flowing. Her dress was simple, as plain as she was, but elegant all the same, fitting her perfectly. She lowered herself into a curtsey, dipping low enough that the ends of her hair all but touched the stone floor.

"My apologies," she went on to say when she rose, meeting Arthur's then Gwen's eyes.

Merlin watched with careful consideration. Nothing about her screamed magic, nothing about the way she dressed or looked, yet Merlin could feel it. He could feel it thrum in the air, radiating out from the girl and it made him wary.

"My mistress," the girl continued when no one interrupted her, "she regrets she could not make it to the celebrations and sent me on ahead with a gift for Queen Guinevere."

"A gift?" Arthur questioned, rising from his seat once more to look the girl over.

"Yes, Sire, a gift." She reached into her satchel and pulled out a bundle of cloth, gently unwrapping the bundle to reveal what looked to Merlin like a spindle. "Tis a simple gift to bring good luck to the new queen."

"Arthur," Merlin breathed out in hushed warning, swallowing the tight lump in his throat and shaking his head minutely.

Arthur nodded, meeting Merlin's gaze for a moment before returning his attention once more to the girl. "And your mistress, who is she?"

"An old friend of both King and Queen," the girl answered, taking another step forward and offering the bundle of cloth up, her eyes locked on Gwen.

Merlin's eyes were locked on the spindle though. Like the girl, it radiated magic, fainter but still present. He moved to Arthur's side, jaw clenched. "The spindle, Arthur... you can't let Gwen touch it."

The girl laughed, short and light, yet there was something sinister beneath it that had Merlin's mouth drying up, his eyes rising to look her over again.

"Tis naught but a harmless spindle," she answered, smile far too sweet and eyes glazed over in a manner that reminded Merlin of something.

But before he could think what it reminded him of, Arthur spoke again.

"Then please, if it truly is harmless, you won't mind telling us the name of your mistress."

"Of course." The girl inclined her head. "My mistress is Lady Morgana. She sends her apologies for the delay in her arrival but hopes to be here soon."

"Guards!" Arthur called out without hesitation, motioning toward the girl, Morgana's name an instant trigger. "Seize her!"

The guards moved immediately, heading straight for the girl, but by the time they reached her, they were already too late. A swirl of magic enveloped her and when it faded away, it left behind only the spindle and cloth, along with a small rabbit with fur the colour of sand. The guards paused and the rabbit hopped once on the spot.

"Did she just..." Arthur started, eyes focused on the rabbit.

"Transform into a rabbit?" Merlin questioned, finishing the statement, his lips thinned and head cocked slightly to the side. "I think she did."

It was another moment before Arthur seemed to remember himself, shaking his head to wake himself. "Well, don't just stand there," he called to the guards, "seize it!"

They stared at the rabbit as it turned to face the doors, then they all lunged forward at the same time that the rabbit hopped out of their way. It had nearly reached the doors before the guards had untangled themselves. The only thing to stop it from hopping any further and escaping out into the castle were the doors slamming closed as one of the large candlesticks nearby 'accidentally' tipped over of its own accord.

One of the guards swooped down and snatched the struggling rabbit up, turning to face Arthur. "What should I do with it, Sire?"

"He's got a point," Merlin breathed from beside Arthur, "a rabbit could easily escape the dungeons."

"Then find a cage!" Arthur called out, his frustration aimed more at Merlin than the guard.

"Right away, Sire." The guard bowed before leaving the hall with the aid of a second guard, silence filling the air once more.

"What about the spindle, Sire?" Sir Leon voiced, moving away from his position and across the floor to where the spindle sat.

"If I may, Sire," Gaius spoke up, following Sir Leon out onto the floor.

Arthur nodded, his brow pulling down and lips forming a thoughtful frown. "Of course, Gaius."

Bundling up the spindle in the cloth once more, Gaius took his leave, Sir Leon following after him. Chatter began amongst the guests once more, and Arthur fell back into his seat with a sigh, Gwen's hand moving to hold his.

"Well," Merlin started, gazing out over the hall, "it could have gone worse."


	2. Chapter 2

"Arthur," Gwen pleaded, taking hold of Arthur's hands and forcing him to look her in the eye. She smiled softly. "It will be fine."

"This is Morgana we're talking about. You know what she is capable of," Arthur argued, his shoulders tense from worry and frustration.

They stood in Gwen's room, Arthur dressed in his chainmail as Gwen tried to talk him down. But he was having none of it. How could he when Morgana had all but threatened Gwen in front of a hall full of guests? Had she not done enough damage? Had she not caused enough trouble? Though he had known it was only wishful thinking, he had hoped that when Morgana had disappeared that last time, it would be for good. Yet she was back once more, and he doubted her motives were friendly.

"I can't lose you, Gwen," he went on to say, voice soft, his fingers tracing lightly against the skin of her cheek.

"You won't lose me, Arthur."

But he pulled away to move back toward the door, two guards standing waiting. He would leave the guards with Gwen and would take several knights with him to scour the castle and Camelot. Morgana would not get to Gwen. She couldn't.

"Arthur," Gwen called once more, waiting until he turned to face her before continuing, "be careful."

He nodded then headed out into the halls. Turning toward the two guards, he gave them their order. "No one is to enter this room and you are not to leave this post. Understood?"

Both guards inclined their head, uttering a brief 'yes, Sire' before taking up post either side of the door as Arthur took off down the hall toward the waiting knights.

* * *

Merlin watched over Gaius' shoulder as the old physician studied the spindle. It sat, looking harmless, upon a piece of red fabric. Gaius had already taken a small sample from the tip of it and Merlin had watched as he had placed it in a vial with water. Now that vial stood off to the side and Gaius focused on the spindle itself.

"It's laced with poison, no doubt," the old physician noted, narrowing his eyes on the spindle, "though with what kind, I cannot say."

"Is that why you took the sample?" Merlin asked, motioning to the vial.

"So you do pay attention?" Gaius mocked, offering a smile and a raised eyebrow at Merlin before answering. "Yes. If I can remove the poison from the splinter and analyse it, I should be able to figure out what it is, though it will take some time."

"And what about magic?" Merlin questioned, wary. He looked over the spindle again, still feeling that faint thrum of magic about, like tiny vibrations on the air.

"If Morgana is involved then we cannot rule it out. Most likely, she may have used an enchantment to increase the poison's potency."

Merlin nodded in understanding. He knew all too well the dangers of magic and poison when mixed together, though he had to admit that he remembered very little of the event with the chalice and only knew snippets of what Gaius had told him. "Will you be able to make a cure?"

Gaius pushed back from the bench and let out a deep sigh, looking gravely to Merlin. "Let us hope we will not require one."

Chewing at his lip, Merlin offered another nod.

"Do you think she'll come?" he asked after another moment, knowing he didn't need to clarify who he was referring to.

"Morgana feels she has been wronged, Merlin, and she is determined to have her revenge. It is not a question of whether she will or will not come, but a question of when." Moving to stand, Gaius placed his hand on Merlin's back, a gesture of reassurance meant to ease the heaviness in his words. "You should rest, Merlin. When Morgana does come, you will need to be at your best."

* * *

It was with a great reluctance that Merlin did as Gaius said and even then, when he had found his way to bed, he would hardly call his sleep restful. He tossed and turned, his sheets twisting around him, wrapping him up in a tight cocoon that was too hot and too sticky. With the unrest came fragments of dreams, messed up images that flashed by too quickly.

He dreamt of the girl from the great hall and of the spindle. It spun upon red fabric, held in place by some unknown power, before fading to be replaced by an image of Gwen, asleep in her bed, peaceful, calm, and unaware of the danger that approached. And he dreamt of Morgana, with her dark hair and bright eyes, eyes that felt so familiar but not on Morgana.

It was then that he woke. His eyes snapped open and he let out a breath. Realisation dawned on him and he untangled himself from his sheets. Grabbing his boots, he pulled them on as he moved forward, his jacket forgotten. He rushed on, nearly tripping down the small staircase as he pulled the second boot on.

"Merlin?" Gaius questioned, raising his tired head from the workbench. "What are you doing?"

"The horse!" Merlin called in response, halfway toward the door before Gaius spoke again.

"The horse?"

"Yes! Arthur's horse. That's why it was the wrong one. That's why the guy seemed so strange," Merlin answered, pausing at the doorway to look back to Gaius.

"What _are_ you talking about?" A frown found its way onto Gaius' face, his hand moving up as he pushed back a yawn.

"The horse is Morgana! She transformed herself into a horse! She's here, in Camelot, right now." Then he was moving again, reaching for the door handle as the next words slipped from his mouth. "I have to get to Gwen."

"Merlin! Wait!" Gaius called, more alert, no doubt the mention of Morgana waking him up. "If what you say is true, then it'll be risky. If you go up against Morgana, someone may see you using magic."

Merlin nodded. "You're right."

"Then what will you do?"

A grin formed on his face and he turned back into the room, snatching up a cloak from nearby. "I'll just have to make sure that it's not me they see."

* * *

Cloak wrapped around him to hide his clothes, the familiar spell tumbled from Merlin's lips as he drew closer to Gwen's room. The change was instant, unseen in the deserted and darkened corridor. His pace was slower in that form, back hunched slightly, bones creaking like an old bridge in the wind. But the magic was still strong in him, strong enough that he didn't feel weak.

And Morgana knew him as an old man, knew him as Emrys. She feared him, which could only work to his advantage.

He was almost at Gwen's rooms when he heard her scream. His pace quickened and he rounded the corner. The two guards lay unconscious by the open door and Merlin knew. Morgana was already there.

"Morgana!" Gwen's voice echoed out into the corridor, strong, but Merlin could hear the fear beneath the strength. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I only want what's rightfully mine," was Morgana's reply.

Merlin rushed on, pushed himself down the hall and to the doorway. His eyes took in the scene with a quick sweep of the room. Gwen stood beside her bed, backing carefully away from Morgana, her gaze locked on what Morgana held. The spindle. Worry flitted across Merlin's mind as he thought of Gaius. If Morgana had taken the spindle from him, what had happened to the old physician?

He pushed the thought aside, swallowed it to allow himself to focus on the scene at hand.

"Árísan byre!" he called out, his voice a scratchy croak as he raised his hand toward Morgana.

Morgana turned to him, her eyes widening, but by the time she realised he was there, it was too late. She was thrown backwards, away from the bed and into the dresser by the window. For a moment, she lay still, but a spell was on her lips in no time, her eyes flashing gold as the magic flowed from her. Various items from the dresser flew across the room toward Merlin, but he dismissed them easily.

"Gescildan," he commanded, arm still raised.

The items paused midair then dropped to the ground. But it wasn't the clattering of metal against stone that caught Merlin's attention. It was a fainter noise, one no louder than a whisper. Gwen gasped from beside the bed, and Merlin turned toward her, taking in the frown upon her lips and the crease in her burrowed brow. She met his eyes, questioning, before falling to her knees, one hand upon the bed as her other moved up to her shoulder.

"You're too late, old man," Morgana spat at him, pulling herself up from the wreckage of the dresser. Her lips curled into an unpleasant smile and it was then that Merlin realised she no longer held the spindle. In fact, he could see it nowhere near her.

There were shouts from outside the room now, and the pounding of feet against stone. Arthur's voice called out but Merlin didn't make out what was said. His head felt too light from the realisation that Morgana had tricked him. She had used the spell aimed at him as a distraction and it had worked.

Morgana laughed, cold and callous as she backed away toward the window. She didn't vanish, not just yet and Merlin knew she wouldn't, not until she had seen the look on Arthur's face. Not until she had made sure that Arthur knew she had done this.

Merlin ignored her and pushed forward, dropping to the floor in front of Gwen. The spindle lay by her feet, the tip coated in red, the same red that spread out from her shoulder. Her breathing was barely there, too light, and her eyes closed as her head fell to rest upon the bed. A dozen spells passed through Merlin's mind and he dismissed each in turn before deciding on the one he needed, the one he prayed would work.

Eyes closed, he placed his hand over her shoulder and uttered the words beneath his breath, a whisper. He was still whispering them when he heard Arthur's arrival at Gwen's door. He didn't look up to see the devastation and anger on Arthur's face or the pure vicious glee on Morgana's. He didn't need to.

"My gift to you and your queen, dear Brother," Morgana all but sang.

Merlin heard the scrape of metal as Arthur unsheathed his sword, heard him lunge forward, and he heard the break of glass and whoosh of wind. Morgana was gone and Arthur had stricken nothing but thin air.

Swallowing thickly, Merlin removed his hand from Gwen and slowly pulled himself up from the ground. Saddened eyes found Arthur, holding the King's rage filled gaze for what felt like an almost eternal silence.

Then the silence broke.

Arthur took a step forward, raising his sword to point at Merlin, a snarl turning up his lips. "You!"

He lunged forward and it was only sheer luck that allowed Merlin to dodge the attack in time.

"Arthur, you must listen to me," he tried to plead.

But the words fell on deaf ears and Arthur swung his sword at Merlin once more. This time luck was not on Merlin's side. Body too old, too slow, the blade made contact. It sliced through the cloth of the cloak and bit into the skin on Merlin's side. The pain didn't register with him at first, not until he looked down to see the red seeping out.

He swayed for a moment, knees weakening, but righted himself enough to stop the next attack, the one that would surely be fatal. Arms raised, he pushed out with his magic, stopped Arthur in his tracks and sent the young King flying backwards. Arthur didn't move again when he landed, head falling forward, unconscious.

Spinning on the spot, Merlin did the same with the two knights by the door as they made to rush him. They landed out in the hall against the wall, out cold, and Merlin moved forward. He pushed himself, even though his body protested, his side aching, and he kept pushing himself, because he knew it would not be long before others found their way there.

He made it all the way down to the lower level before he heard voices and saw the flicker of a torch from ahead. Drawing in a deep breath, he moved to hide behind a pillar until the knights had passed, rushing to Arthur's aid. When they had disappeared, taking the light with them, Merlin closed his eyes.

Everything felt so heavy, making it a temptation to just let body slide down the pillar and to the floor, where he could sleep. Snapping his eyes open, he shook his head, forcing the thoughts away and instead focused on the spell that would change him back.

He had gotten it down to a fine art, all the practise he had had at transforming, and yet the pain in his side muddled up the words in his head. It took him several attempts before he got them right and by then the pain was so blinding that he was beginning to doubt he could make it back to Gaius without help.

With one hand, he pulled the cloak away and let it fall to the ground behind the pillar. It made him feel somewhat lighter, and when he moved again, it was with a little more ease. His bones no longer creaked, but his pace was still slow, his back still hunched, and to add to it all, his head felt like it was full of clouds, muddled and woozy.

He trudged forward, making his way through the empty corridors and onward toward Gaius' chambers. Each step was heavier than the last, the weight increasing on his shoulders, until finally, he broke through the doorway to Gaius' room and it all became too much. The world was spinning too much and he felt too tired. He went tumbling forward, head first, but darkness claimed him before he could even reach the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

As the darkness pushed back and Arthur felt himself breaking free, he became aware of a dull ache at the back of his head. He blinked and breathed out slowly, taking in the room before him. It was another moment before he remembered all that had happened, and when he did, he was on his feet and rushing to Gwen's side. She lay, slumped over beside the bed, features pale in the dim moonlight that shone in through the broken window.

He dropped to his knees beside her, staring accusingly at the spindle by her feet before sliding a hand beneath Gwen's head to lift it gently in an attempt to wake her. "Gwen," he tried, the name barely a whisper in the silence of the room. He swallowed and tried again. "Gwen, please..."

But she remained still, unresponsive and slack in his arms.

Slipping one hand behind her, he slid the other beneath her legs and lifted her from the ground to lay her on the bed instead. She looked like we was asleep, her eyes closed, face peaceful. Arthur looked over her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, denying what he knew to be true.

"Sire," a voice called from the doorway, several more knights arriving. But they were too late.

Arthur turned to face them, jaw tight, but refused to meet their gazes. It was Gwaine who had spoken, standing to the front of the group, Percival and Elyan behind him.

"Gaius," Arthur managed to push out, his throat closing up around the name. He coughed, clearing it and tried again. "Fetch Gaius... tell him it's urgent."

Gwaine nodded and raced off without another word, leaving the other two behind. After all, Gwaine was faster than Sir Percival, and Elyan was...

"Gwen," Elyan choked out, breaking into Arthur's thoughts. He stepped forward into the room, moving slowly toward Gwen as if he feared moving too quickly would make her fade completely.

"I'm sorry, Elyan," Arthur spoke up, eyes falling to the ground, unable to watch Elyan at his sister's side, gripping her hand. "I should have stayed with her. I should have... I should have..."

"This is not your fault, Arthur," Percival voiced from the doorway, tone solemn. "You cannot blame yourself."

But Arthur ignored him and kept his attention on the ground. He could feel Elyan's eyes on him but still could not look.

"What happened?" the young knight asked, and though his voice held no accusation, Arthur still felt the words weigh heavy upon his shoulders.

"Morgana, she was here," he answered. "And a second sorcerer, the old man."

"The one who killed your father?" Percival questioned.

"The very same one."

"So he was working with Morgana this whole time?"

Arthur swallowed and nodded. "It would appear so."

"Then we must get after them!" Elyan jumped up from beside the bed, hand ready on his sword as he began to make his way toward the door.

"It will be of little consequence now. They will both be long gone." And Arthur hated saying those words, hated knowing they were true. It would be hopeless. Morgana was gone before Arthur was even fully in the room, and the old man, he seemed to have a knack for vanishing. But he understood Elyan completely. He felt the same need to rush out, to hunt them down.

"But..." Elyan began to argue and Arthur raised his head enough to see Percival place a hand upon the young knight's shoulder.

"Arthur is right, it won't do much good right this moment."

Elyan tensed but his hand fell away from the hilt of his sword and he nodded, moving back into the room towards Gwen.

Silence fell and it wasn't broken until Gwaine returned with Gaius.

"Sire," Gaius greeted, inclining his head. He moved without hesitation toward Gwen and laid his bag on the bed beside her.

Elyan stepped back and away from the bed to stand beside Arthur, allowing Gaius room to work.

"How long has she been like this?" Gaius asked, pressing his fingers to Gwen's arm and then moving up to her face to lift her eyelids.

"Since I woke and sent Gwaine to fetch you," Arthur answered. He felt numb, distant, watching Gaius work.

Gaius moved to her shoulder now and cut into her blood soaked dress to reveal untouched skin beneath. Then he fell back and let out a breath.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," was all Gaius said.

Arthur could say nothing in return, clenching his jaw to stop the light tremble that threatened to take hold of his lips. Tears burned at his eyes but he refused to let them fall.

"I thought the spindle was in your care," Elyan voiced, eyes locked on Gaius.

"Elyan," Arthur warned, his own voice almost breaking.

"No," Gaius interrupted, shaking his head to Arthur. "Elyan is quite right. The spindle _was_ with me. I turned away only for a moment, turned my back on it to fetch a book. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, if I had heard them enter..."

"Gaius, you are not to blame," Arthur pushed out, finally raising his eyes enough to meet Gaius'. "If you had seen and attempted to stop Morgana, then she would have surely killed you."

"No one is to blame but Morgana," Gwaine chimed in, though Arthur noted that the knight's gaze rested on him a little too long, suggesting that the words were meant for him.

Gaius bowed his head once more. "I truly am sorry, Sire."

And Arthur knew he was. Gwen was not just their queen. She was Elyan's sister. She was a friend to Gaius and she was... she was Gwen.

"Gaius," Arthur called as the old physician made to leave, "can nothing be done?"

"I can feel no breath from her lips and hear no heart within her chest. The only comfort I can offer is that it would have been quick."

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur managed to choke out, his throat tight and painful as he continued to force back the tears.

"We'll leave you be, Arthur," Gwaine spoke up and Arthur was only partly aware of them departing and of the door closing behind them, shutting out the candlelight from the hallway and leaving only the pale moonlight to caress Gwen's gentle form.

She was so peaceful, so beautiful, and if Arthur stayed just where he was, watching her, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was just sleeping.

* * *

Merlin was drifting, his mind fuzzy and light. Everything felt distant, like he were trapped within a cloud whilst the rest of the world continued on below. It was the muffled voices, breaking through the haze, that had him coming back down to earth.

He blinked his eyes open. He was in his room, laid upon his bed. Sunlight streamed in through the window, welcoming the new day, and Merlin frowned. Was he late, or was the sun early? If Arthur had to come looking for him, the young king would not be happy and he would make damn sure Merlin knew it.

Yet he had the feeling that Arthur wouldn't be looking for him, just as he had the feeling that he was forgetting something important. So he lay there, sleep still coating his thoughts and numbness tingling throughout his body.

"He hasn't left the room since last night," one of the voices drifted up from Gaius' quarters, a familiar lilt staining the words.

Gwaine, Merlin thought to himself.

"It is unsurprising," Gaius answered, his voice tired, even more so than usual, as if the man had hardly slept all night. "He is in mourning."

Merlin frowned. Who was in morning? He pulled himself up into a seated position, curiosity taking hold of him. The movement jarred him and pain radiated out from his side, causing him to take pause. With the pain came memories of the night before. Morgana, she had poisoned Gwen and Arthur had...

Merlin swallowed thickly, unable to finish the train of thought, his hand moving down to his side as his heart seemed to sink within his chest. His mind drifted once more and it wasn't until he heard Gaius clearing his throat from up ahead that he realised the physician had entered his room and that Gwaine must have gone.

"I see you're finally awake," Gaius said when Merlin raised his head to meet the old man's eyes, voice stern around the edges but coated with what was definitely worry. "Perhaps now you can tell me why you stumbled in last night, covered in blood and then went on drop down unconscious? I feared you were dead!"

"Arthur..." was all Merlin said in reply, his shoulders slumping.

By the small 'Ah' that escaped from Gaius' lips, he figured it was answer enough.

The solemn silence that followed lasted only a moment before Merlin broke it in his attempt to get up. "I have to see Arthur... I have to tell him about Gwen."

"He already knows. He's with her now."

"He knows?" Merlin frowned, remembering the snippet of conversation he had caught between Gwaine and Gaius when he had first woke. But it didn't fit together. They couldn't have been talking about Arthur. "What does he know?"

"Gwen's _dead_ , Merlin," Gaius replied with the air of a person who seemed to believe the other already knew.

Merlin shook his head and dragged himself up from the bed, cringing at the burning ache in his side but pushing on despite it. "She's not dead."

"Merlin," Gaius drawled out, sorrow lining the name and an unspoken apology written in the old man's eyes.

"You don't understand, Gaius," he tried to argue, but Gaius cut in over him.

"I understand you tried to heal her, Merlin. But the poison was _lethal_ , her death would have been almost instant."

"Yes, I know that," Merlin answered, eyes locked on Gaius. "That's why I used a sleep spell on her."

It was Gaius' turn to frown now, brow burrowed as he cocked his head gently to the side. "What did you say?"

"She's not dead, Gaius. She's just asleep. It gives us time to find the cure."

"If there is a cure at all."

"There is," Merlin said, nodding his head, definite in his answer. After all, he couldn't believe any different. He wouldn't allow himself to. "There has to be."

He grabbed for his jacket and was on with pulling it on when another spike of pain bit into his side.

"You're not ready to be moving about, not with that wound," Gaius admonished. He held out his arm, ready to guide Merlin back toward the bed, but Merlin took no notice.

"Arthur needs to hear the truth."

"That may be so, but you are in no condition to be running about. You need to _rest_ , Merlin." Gaius shook his head and let go of a lengthy sigh, the look in his eyes grave, darkened circles under them reminding Merlin just how weary the old physician seemed. "You're lucky to be alive," he continued, motioning toward Merlin's side. "If not for your magic, you probably wouldn't be."

"It's not that bad now," Merlin tried, hoping Gaius wouldn't see the lie behind his eyes or tainting his words.

Gaius heaved another weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat, his eyes never losing that worry. "It doesn't matter what I say, does it?" he asked, his tone implying he already knew the answer. "You're going to go anyway, aren't you?"

"It's Arthur," Merlin breathed out, imploring, his eyes locked with Gaius. And really, did he need any more of a reason? They both knew it was his job, his _destiny_ , to protect Arthur. But it had long since become more than that. Arthur was his friend and Merlin couldn't sit idly by when his friend was hurting.

"Very well." Gaius nodded in understanding. "It will give me a chance to look at the poison once more... there's something about it that seems familiar, if I could just put my finger on it."

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure how much time had passed. The only thing to tell him that night had become day was the rising of the sun, and he took little notice of that. After all, how could the sun shine? How could the sky be so bright when Gwen lay on the bed, unmoving?

Elyan had been back, his visit brief, his words kept short. Not that it mattered, Arthur could barely remember what he said anyway. Possibly informing him about the search for Morgana and the old sorcerer, or maybe something regarding a horse... he couldn't be sure. His mind was too focused on Gwen, his hand wrapped tight around hers.

She was strangely cold, not icy like his father had been, but not warm, like the living.

The door creaked open behind him but he didn't look up. His eyes remained transfixed on Gwen, no doubt red from refusing to cry.

"Arthur," Merlin spoke up from behind him, and really, Arthur should have known it was him.

"Please, Merlin," he started, his own voice barely a whisper, the words hurting his throat as he forced them out but kept the tears in. "Leave me be."

"I can't do that," Merlin answered, solemn and sober, determined.

Arthur looked to him, met his eyes and held them, watched him shake his head and move closer, but said nothing.

"Please, Arthur," Merlin implored, or was it begging? Arthur couldn't decide. "She's not dead."

"I know this is hard for you to accept, Merlin," Arthur answered, his head falling once more to look down toward his hand, still holding tightly onto Gwen. "You were her friend... but..."

"But nothing," Merlin interrupted, stepping closer still, that determination shining even brighter in his eyes when Arthur looked once more. "Trust me Arthur – have Gaius look at her again. He'll tell you. She's not dead..."

"Merlin..." Arthur tried, because false hope was not one he needed. It just prolonged the agony.

"Please, Arthur... I need you to trust me on this."

Eyes locked on Merlin, Arthur considered the plea and took in his friend's features. There was something there, something beyond the determination that made Arthur think. And he wasn't sure why, wasn't sure what it really was, but he found himself swallowing the lump in his throat and nodding all the same.


	4. Chapter 4

When Arthur had agreed to trust Merlin, Merlin had rushed off at once to fetch Gaius. By the time they had both arrived back at Gwen's room, Arthur was pacing across the floor at the foot of the bed, a thoughtful frown in place on his face and his arms crossed over his chest, a single finger tapping loosely at his chin.

"Sire," Gaius greeted, inclining his head briefly. He didn't wait for instructions, moving directly toward Gwen to inspect her once more.

Arthur stopped pacing whilst he did, his finger stilling, his chest only moving when he remembered to breathe again. Merlin, arms handing by his side, shoulders tense and hands forming loose fists, watched on, taking in both Gaius and Arthur, waiting for Gaius to speak, for Gaius to confirm Merlin's words.

"By all rights, Sire," Gaius spoke finally, words soft as he moved away from Gwen to stand and look to Arthur, "Gwen should be dead. The poison used was fatal."

"But?" Arthur asked, his arms falling away from his chest and his eyes alighting with what looked like hope.

"When I looked over her last night, I could see no signs of life, but now I study her in the light, I believe I may have been too hasty in my declaration. Her skin is far too pale and she is cold to the touch, but this is not death... this is something else entirely. It is more like she is trapped within a deep sleep."

"No doubt the work of the old man," Arthur spoke up, words cold and callous, each like an extra stab to Merlin as he tried not to flinch at them.

"Perhaps he aimed to help Gwen by stopping the poison from spreading," Gaius offered up.

But Arthur shook his head. "My father was wrong on many accounts, Gaius, but he was right about magic. All magic is evil, as are those who practise it."

Merlin felt his heart sink, his shoulders slumping. His gaze drifted downward and he couldn't bring himself to raise it. Doubt prickled at the back of his mind, taking root like a vicious weed.

"How do we wake her?" Arthur asked, steering the conversation away from magic and back to Gwen.

For the most part, Merlin was thankful, the change in topic allowing him to raise his eyes a little as Gaius answered.

"First she must be cured."

Arthur nodded, jaw set, resolute. "And what is the cure?"

"I have studied the poison and I believe I recognise its work. Long before you were born, when magic and sorcery was practised openly, there was a lord who was known for lacing the food of his enemies with poison – the kind made more potent by combining it with magic. This poison reminds me very much of that."

"How does this help us?" Arthur questioned, his tone patient, curious.

"Well, I believe, Sire," Gaius continued, "that he always kept a cure upon himself in fear that someone would use his own poison against him. Without knowing the exact ingredients of the poison, I cannot create a cure, but there is hope that one may still exist."

"And you're sure this is his poison?" Head lowered slightly, Arthur kept his eyes locked with Gaius', his tone becoming more urgent.

"As sure as I can be."

Arthur set to pacing once more at the foot of the bed, the need to move as he thought coming through. "How is it that Morgana came by this potion?" he asked after a moment of contemplation.

"The Castle of Havlor has lain in ruins for many years now, but I daresay that there is still plenty to be discovered there. I doubt Morgana herself would have been able to replicate the potion, but there is a chance she knew of its existence and sought it out. The tales of its potency are well noted by those who seek to use magic for ill means."

Arthur stopped in his pacing and nodded once more. "And this Castle of Havlor, that's where the cure will be?"

"If the cure is still in existence, it will be there."

"Then I ride immediately," Arthur answered, though the words were aimed more at himself, a decision Merlin knew he had made as soon as he had heard there was a cure.

"It will not be easy, my Lord," Gaius warned, taking a step forward. "To reach Havlor you must pass through the Forest of Brégnes."

Arthur shrugged. "That doesn't sound too dangerous."

But Merlin recognised the name, knew it from one of Gaius' book. He swallowed and looked to Arthur. "Arthur," he breathed out, a small plea, a warning for him not to rush into things so quickly.

"It is not to be taken lightly," Gaius spoke up, explaining further, "Many a man has lost his mind wandering that forest and a great deal many more have disappeared completely. The place not only inspires fear, but amplifies it."

Arthur took in the words and the warning, his gaze falling downward the way they always did when thinking something over and then rising once more when he had come to a decision. "Will Morgana know about this cure?" he asked.

"There is a possibility that she may..." Gaius answered, cautious, eyes narrowed somewhat.

"Then there's no time to waste," Arthur continued, already moving toward the doorway. "Merlin, ready my horse – I want at least part of a head start before Morgana discovers Gwen's still alive."

"Horse?" Merlin questioned, shaking away the cobwebs that had gathered in his mind. "You're not going alone."

Arthur paused in his tracks to consider Merlin. "I can't exactly take the knights with me, Merlin. Not when there's the chance that Morgana may attack. They need to be here, protecting Camelot."

Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't talking about the knights."

This time, Arthur really looked at him, hesitation in his eyes. "You heard what Gaius said, Merlin. We're not exactly going for a morning stroll here or for a picnic in the woods. This will be dangerous."

"Since when has that ever stopped me in the past?"

And it seemed that Arthur couldn't argue with that. It seemed he couldn't find any real reason for Merlin not to go, though Merlin did have the slight feeling, as he watched some tension fall away from the young king's shoulders, that he wasn't trying all too hard and maybe... maybe he was glad for the company.

He nodded and left the room without another word and Merlin allowed his shoulders to slump, that heavy weight once more within his chest. He would risk his life over and over to save his friends, would do whatever possible. He just wished...

"He'll never trust magic, Gaius..." The words slipped from his lips before he even realised, saddened as he continued to stare at the empty doorway Arthur had left through.

"It's not magic he needs to trust, Merlin," Gaius answered, coming to stand beside Merlin and placing a hand upon his arm. "It's you."

Merlin shook his head, unconvinced. "You heard him Gaius. After everything's that happened, how can I ever tell him who I really am?"

"The time will come. But until then, you need to keep your faith in yourself... and in Arthur."

* * *

It was a day's ride to the Forest of Brégnes, at least it was for them.

Arthur was single-minded in his purpose, which meant there was no slowing down and no unnecessary stops. Merlin was too lost in his own thoughts to argue. As he felt a slice of pain at his side, he did think to ask for a small break at one time, but when he opened his mouth to say something, he thought better of it and sunk back into his thoughtful silence.

It wasn't until the forest was in sight that their pace slowed, and by then the sky was turning dark. Several stars glittered and shone overhead, welcoming the night, and the sun set somewhere behind them. They made camp only because Arthur's common sense outweighed his need to carry on. To go into the unknown forest and travel it in the dark, neither of them thought that was the best idea. But as soon as the first trickles of sunlight broke through with the coming dawn, Arthur was waking Merlin and they were moving again.

The trees and brush lining the forest border were thick, as was the fog within. It made it difficult to see what would await them once they passed through the tree line.

"We'll have to guide the horses," Arthur announced, jumping down from his with ease.

Merlin was a little slower but followed suit, climbing down a little more awkwardly than normal. He clucked his tongue and gently led his horse onwards, trailing behind Arthur as the young king continued on into the forest.

"Exactly how long did Gaius say it would take for us to get through here?" Arthur questioned, his gaze constantly roaming about, taking everything in.

"That depends," Merlin answered, finding himself tensing up the further they walked onward, entering further into the suffocating gloom of the forest. "We might not even make it out at all."

Arthur shot him a sceptical look, his eyebrow raised and mouth quirked at the corner. "It's okay if you're scared, Merlin," he taunted.

Merlin pouted despite himself. "I'm not scared," he snapped back, offering up a glare to Arthur.

But something shifted off to the side somewhere, the branches of a brush shaking in a nonexistent breeze, and Merlin's eyes snapped toward the location. If there was anything there, he couldn't see it but it set him on edge none the less. Arthur may not take Gaius and his warnings seriously, but Merlin did. And that forest, it felt wrong. The silence, the stillness, the way the fog seemed to shift, limiting their view... it was all wrong.

"Spooked by a rabbit?" Arthur continued to mock, turning back to focus on where he was going.

"This place is dangerous, Arthur," Merlin protested in defence. "It's filled with dark magic." He could feel it.

Arthur scoffed. " _Dark_ magic, Merlin? You make it sound like there is good magic."

"Isn't there?" Merlin shot out in reply, teeth gritted as he watched Arthur's back.

Arthur's shoulders seemed to slump but he didn't look back. "After all these years, are you still truly that naive, Merlin?"

"You believed it once," Merlin offered up, wondering if Arthur's response would rekindle that spark of hope or diminish it completely.

"That was before my father was killed by a sorcerer – the same sorcerer who helped Morgana."

"What if he didn't mean to kill Uther?" Merlin continued to question, that weight in his chest getting increasingly heavier with each word Arthur spoke against magic. "What if he isn't working with Morgana?"

Arthur stopped in his tracks, his head down. "When it comes to magic, I cannot take that chance."

Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat, his hand moving to the wound on his side. It was the deepest he had ever received, more so because it had been delivered by a friend. He hung his head and fell back into silence, all the while wondering if Arthur would have done the same thing had he known it was Merlin behind the mask of the old man.

* * *

Sometime later, when they could no longer tell if it was night or day above the canopy of trees, they came to a stop and built camp once more. The mood was solemn and as silent as the forest around them. Within the small clearing they had found, they sat around a fire and Merlin found himself lost to the flames and thoughts that whirled around his mind.

"You look like you've been in a dream for the past week, Merlin," Arthur started, picking up a twig and using it to poke at the fire. His eyes looked to Merlin, the familiar prat-like smile on his lips, a hint of haughtiness coating his words, but there was a crease in his brow which Merlin thought could have easily been mistaken for worry. "Something on your mind?"

Merlin shrugged, gaze dropping back to the fire. "I'm fine," he answered, short and simple. Clipped.

"C'mon," Arthur encouraged, refusing to give up. "I've known you too long now, Merlin. I know when something's bothering you."

Merlin kept his eyes locked with the flames and said nothing. This was their first night in the forest, the day's travel so slow that Merlin had a hard time believing they had moved far from the tree line at all. He could already feel what he believed to be the effects of the forest, already found himself watching over his shoulder, waiting for shadows to move and twigs to snap.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur began, drawling the name out.

"I'm going to get more firewood," Merlin declared, interrupting him before he could continue on. He jumped to his feet, already moving off away from the fire... and Arthur.

"Well hang on, I'll come too."

"No!" Merlin found himself shouting, anger bubbling up inside that he didn't know was there. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes briefly, unable to look toward the young King, before continuing on, his words quieter but still tense. "I don't need your help."

He moved off again, heading out into the gloom. It seemed to welcome him but he ignored it, keeping his eyes locked on the floor. Part of him told him it was unwise, wandering alone in such a place, but the other part was stronger, the one that had to get away, had to breath just for a moment.

Anger, frustration, sadness... fear. It was all there, churning inside of him, twisting at his guts and clouding his mind. And in the thick of it all, there was Arthur. Arthur who grinned and joked with him, teased and mocked him, ruffled his hair, elbowed him in the gut... Arthur who didn't believe in good magic. Arthur the King.

It had been such a long time since such doubt weighed so heavily on Merlin's shoulders. Yes, he had his doubts about Arthur's trust in magic. Those doubts never truly left him. How could they ever? But the ones that pulled him down and dragged at his heart, they were ones he hadn't thought of in years.

Arthur was his friend... And Merlin was his. But if Arthur knew, if he knew who Merlin really was... would he still call him his friend? Or would he do as he had done the other night and draw his sword?

Something rustled in the brush behind and Merlin span on the spot, all thoughts scattering. He could see nothing through the dense fog but he could feel a presence somewhere beyond.

"Arthur?" he called out, uncertain.

But there was no Arthur to reply, as Merlin began to see as the presence drew closer, out of the brush and out of the fog. Closer, toward Merlin, until he could finally make out its silhouette - too large and too bulky to be Arthur, but just the right size for danger.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur stared into the flames of the fire once Merlin had disappeared into the fog. It bothered him more than he would care to admit. Merlin had many different moods, from impish to so bright and cheerful that Arthur could never help but be irritated. Then there were times when the young manservant would withdraw into himself, go far too quiet and far too still, and that always bothered Arthur. This time was no exception. Something was definitely up with Merlin, beyond the usual moping and sulkiness. He was angry, and that, Arthur wasn't used to.

His gaze fell away from the flames and toward the small collection of firewood nearby. They had plenty to see them through the night, so Merlin hadn't needed to collect anymore. After all, they were in a forest so it seemed unlikely that they would need to stock up. So that raised the question that scratched at the inside of Arthur's mind, irritating and persistent. That anger of Merlin's, was it aimed at Arthur? Had he done something to upset the young manservant? Or was it that Merlin blamed him for Gwen?

Confused and frustrated, he leaned back, hands resting against the forest floor beneath him as he looked upward and to the thick canopy that blocked out the stars and the night sky. The forest was like a world of its own, completely separate to the one that lay beyond its borders. As soon as they had passed the tree line, Arthur had felt it. Sure, he may have mocked Merlin, but it was easier to do that than to admit that there was something about that forest that caused his hairs to stand on end and his spine to tingle, wary and afraid.

He had yet to see any other signs of life within the darkened gloom. No animal tracks, no sounds from birds, nothing but endless brush and stillness... silence. But they weren't alone, that much he was sure of. There was something else in that forest, though what it was, he didn't know.

Turning his head to the side, he looked off into the fog once more, straining his ears and holding his breath as he listened out for Merlin. Nothing. Not an echo, not a whisper, not the snap of a twig or the rustle of a bush. Normally that wouldn't mean anything, but Merlin wasn't himself and the forest... it promised to be everything Gaius had said it would be.

Then it came.

Something heavy fell in the distance, in the direction Merlin had headed off into. Like the sound of a trunk crashing to the forest floor.

Arthur was up immediately.

He pulled his sword from where it rested in the ground beside him and took off, racing through the undergrowth. Stealth meant little. All that mattered was getting to the source of the sound because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it would lead him straight to Merlin – Merlin who was unarmed and not nearly on guard enough to go up against any enemies.

He tore past branches, feeling them snag on his chainmail before they snapped – the force propelling him forward much more urgent, much more determined than any force that could attempt to hold him back – the noises from up ahead, much closer now, keeping him moving.

Then something tall and lanky crashed into him and both he and Merlin were sent tumbling to the forest floor.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Arthur demanded, glaring toward Merlin with a mixture of relief and fear, because whilst Merlin was there, looking for the most part unharmed, his eyes were too wide, breathing too hard, and there was panic written on his face.

Merlin was up first, gripping Arthur's shoulder and pulling him up to. He didn't answer Arthur's question. He didn't really need to. "Run," was all he said instead, breathless.

"And what exactly are we running from?" Arthur found himself asking, still staring after Merlin, unmoving as he awaited an answer.

Merlin's eyes moved beyond Arthur, back in the direction he had come from and Arthur saw him swallow hard as he motioned his chin to whatever was behind. "That."

Though he knew he probably didn't want to see what had Merlin so alarmed, he found himself looking all the same, just as the _thing_ broke through the brush and into his line of sight. The _thing_ that must have been about seven feet tall and from the looks of it, made of stone... rock, hard stone. It was shaped like a man in that it had two arms, two legs, a body and a head, but it was more angular, stiffer in its movements – more statue than human.

"What is that thing?" he breathed out, an awed whisper.

"It's a very, _very_ big rock," Merlin answered, curt and impatient. "Now, I suggest we run."

And Arthur was about to, except he was forced to duck instead as the _thing_ , the very big rock, uprooted a tree stump and launched it in their direction.

"Rocks aren't supposed to be able to move!" he shouted, flat out across the forest floor and turning his head to see that Merlin was in a similar position.

"They're not supposed to be able to throw things either!" Merlin countered.

They both pushed off from the ground and spun away from the rock creature, launching themselves forward. Arthur didn't need to be told to run this time. His body was doing it of its own accord. Well trained instincts had him ducking and weaving, dragging Merlin with him as he did so, as bits of trees and rock and forestry whooshed past them both.

"We can't just keep running, Merlin!" Arthur called, turning his head enough to see Merlin stumble briefly before righting himself.

"Have you got a better idea?" the manservant shot back.

At that Arthur returned his attention to what was ahead of them, taking note of the large boulder they were nearing. He gripped Merlin's arm tight when they were right upon it, stopping him in his tracks and dragging him behind the boulder. Pressing himself up against the rock, Arthur peered around the side to judge how much distance they had gained on the rock creature. Not enough it turned out.

"This is your plan?" Merlin snapped, straightening up so that he stood taller than the boulder.

Arthur pulled him back down just in time to avoid another piece of forest debris that went flying past. "No," he answered, "my plan is you wait here whilst I distract him and lead him away."

Merlin shook his head fervently. "That's not a plan. That's suicide."

"It's only suicide if he catches me." Turning away, Arthur took a deep breath, readying himself to launch forward.

But Merlin gripped his shoulder and refused to let go. "Then I'll do it... You're the King of Camelot. You can't take risks like that."

"I'm faster than you, Merlin."

"No you're not."

"Oh, I think you'll find I am."

Merlin never got the chance to reply. Something smashed into the boulder and it began to crack and split, pieces falling away a chunk at a time so that their hiding place was no longer hidden. Their heads snapped toward the creature and Arthur took advantage of Merlin's slack grip. He pulled away and darted off.

"Hey!" he shouted to the rock creature, "this way! Follow me!"

But as he turned around, ready to make the dash, he noticed the lack of noise, the crashing and thudding of the thing's footsteps silenced to be replaced by what sounded more like sucking and slurping.

Arthur paused, looking back over his shoulder to see the thing had come to a standstill. It appeared to be struggling to move, as if the ground had decided to take a tight hold of it. The creature thrashed and seemed to sink further into what looked like thick mud. But there hadn't been mud there before, had there?

"I think it's stuck!" Merlin called, and Arthur couldn't help but notice how the manservant avoided his eyes, jaw stiffened. "We should get back to camp before it becomes unstuck."

Part of Arthur knew it was far too convenient, a mud pool seemingly forming from nowhere. Yet it was there. It was there and the rock creature was trapped within its centre. And how else could a mud pool have gotten there if it hadn't already been there?

He put it to the back of his mind and nodded to Merlin.

They didn't sprint back to the camp. It was more a gentle jog and Merlin was going much slower than normal, favouring one side more than the other. Arthur said nothing. No doubt his manservant was just winded. All the same, Arthur couldn't look away from him, studying the young raven haired man, even once they had gotten back to the camp.

He was still too quiet. Unsurprising considering what they had just come across. But the silence seemed more stubborn and his posture was rigid.

Arthur grabbed his stuff and moved toward his horse to pack it away. It would best to keep moving and rest when they had gotten well enough away from the rock creature. Pausing at his horse, he looked over his shoulder to Merlin, disturbed by the quiet that continued on. "You know you can talk to me, right, Merlin?"

Merlin stiffened further, moving toward his own horse, but didn't turn to look at Arthur. "No," he answered, "I really can't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" There was hurt lining his tone, hurt that he couldn't explain.

He took a step forward, away from his horse, eyes locked on Merlin, waiting for the manservant's reply. Instead of an answer though, Merlin hissed as he raised his arms to tie his blanket to the horse. It was a hiss Arthur recognised, one of barely concealed pain. It had Arthur frowning and moving toward Merlin immediately.

"You're injured," he pointed out, placing his hand on Merlin's shoulder and spinning him around so they were face to face. His eyes travelled down to Merlin's side, the blue fabric of his shirt dotted with specks of blood.

"It's nothing," Merlin answered, shrugging, but still refusing to meet Arthur's gaze.

Arthur shook his head, leading Merlin toward the tree and forcing him to sit. He dropped down in front of Merlin. "Let me have a look..."

But Merlin pushed his hand away when he made to lift the shirt.

"I'm fine," he insisted, but the cringe of pain on his face told Arthur he wasn't.

"Merlin," Arthur started, voice firm, authoritative, "I need to know how badly injured you are so I know whether or not we have to turn back."

Merlin shook his head again, determined. "We can't go back, not now. We have to get the cure and take it to Gwen."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, meeting his manservant's eyes, the bright blue of Merlin's eyes enhanced by the redness that seemed to taint them around the edges. "But I'm not losing someone else I care about in the process. I can carry on alone if I have to."

Merlin seemed to lose some tension at that. His features softened, the stubbornness fading, if only a little. In that moment, he was completely off guard, completely unable to stop Arthur from lifting his shirt up to inspect the wound. And when he remembered himself, it was too late.

Arthur took in the bandages around Merlin's waist and his frown deepened. He had expected a fresh wound, one caused by the creature. But the bandages were a day or two old at least, which meant the wound was just as old.

"What is this?" The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them and he raised his eyes to search Merlin's features.

The tension had returned, Merlin's jaw clenched as he looked away. He said nothing.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, a little more urgent, eyes locked on Merlin. When Merlin didn't answer, he gripped the young man's chin and forced him to meet Arthur's gaze. "Who did this, Merlin?"

Was this why Merlin had been so sullenly silent? Was this why he was so angry?

"If someone hurt you, Merlin..."

But his words trailed away and Merlin remained quiet, anger settling in those blue eyes of his. Anger and sorrow and pain and fear. And amongst it all, Arthur saw something else to.

Those eyes... those startling blue eyes.

It was like it was the first time he was truly seeing them. With the chaos of emotion inside of them, there came something else, a revelation Arthur didn't want to know.

He felt his face slacken, felt himself falling back on his haunches, shaking his head minutely.

"That's impossible..."

And Merlin said nothing. He just stared at Arthur knowingly.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin watched Arthur, a strange lightness taking hold, causing his head to spin. Numbness slipped in, separating him from the scene before him, from the recognition and realisation alight in Arthur's eyes, and making him feel distant.

Since arriving in Camelot, since becoming Arthur's manservant and friend... this was the moment, the one he knew would come to pass because it had been inevitable right from the start. Just as when the sun rose, you knew the moment would come when it would fade from the sky once more. Like summer, being replaced by winter. Life, by death. Inevitable. And ignorance of the fact could not last forever. Hiding in plain sight could not...

And this was that moment, the one he had been dreading. But it wasn't dread that filled Merlin now, it was cold and painful resignation. A conflict of emotions as he knew with the truth, came freedom. After hiding for so long, a shadow, unable to show his full self, it was oddly freeing, and yet... condemning.

The look in Arthur's eyes faded and he swallowed. What replaced it was something Merlin recognised. He could see it clearly and he knew it well, had felt it on his own features in the past, and had seen it on Arthur's many a more time. Denial.

"Merlin," the young king all but growled out, angrier than before, "who did this?"

He motioned to the bandage, dotted with blood and Merlin pulled his shirt back down to cover it. Out of sight, out of mind. Only it wasn't. The damage was already done.

He watched Arthur, contemplating the answer to his king's question. "You know who did it," he managed, refusing to allow himself to falter.

Arthur shook his head and pushed up to his feet where he began pacing, back and forth, back and forth, angry, frustrated... lost.

"No," Arthur answered, shooting a look back at Merlin, fear settling in the young king's eyes, "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

Merlin didn't reply. What would he say if he did? The truth? That Arthur had been the one to injure him? Or a lie? That it was nothing, just the result of an accident and a broken mop? He couldn't bring himself to say either. He couldn't lie any longer, couldn't _hide_ any longer.

"Merlin..." It was a plea as Arthur came to a halt in his pacing, his gaze moving to meet Merlin's, desperate, forlorn. "Please..."

Please tell me I'm wrong. Please tell me it isn't true. Please tell me something... He didn't need to say the words, Merlin understood them clearly. He could seem them written in his eyes, hear them vibrating through the remnants of the plea.

Solemn, Merlin raised a hand up to his lips, as if to catch hold of a single breath and keep it. The word he spoke was gentle, familiar, one he had used before on an occasion such as this, when normal words would not do. When you could not simply tell, but only show.

"Forbearnan," he whispered, and he felt the heat immediately.

He held his hand out, opening it to reveal the small dancing flame that sat upon his palm. He didn't take his eyes away from Arthur, watching the young king's reaction, waiting for that moment when Arthur could deny it no more. It came slowly, a whisper of denial still present on Arthur's lips as he shook his head.

"No," he breathed out.

Then the shock seemed to vanish, instincts taking hold. Magic. Magic that was evil. Magic that was right in front of him. And Merlin half expected the reaction. He half expected it when Arthur's hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he pulled it free of the scabbard. The blade cut through the air, the tip at Merlin's throat almost instantly.

Arthur stared down at him, anger and betrayal so clear in his eyes, along with the confusion that refused to disappear. Merlin raised his head, tilting his chin up, and felt the tip of the blade scrape against the skin of his neck. Defiant. The pair of them frozen in that moment, lost within the whir of emotions it caused.

"Are you going to kill me?" Merlin asked finally, refusing to acknowledge how bitter the words tasted in his mouth or the way they cracked within his throat.

Arthur remained silent, stoic, and as Merlin held his breath, awaiting the answer, he feared it would be 'yes'. But the sword fell away, as did Arthur's gaze, the young king turning away, head down, making it impossible for Merlin to read him.

"Magic is evil," Merlin started, goading him, "As are all who use it, right? And isn't the penalty for that death?"

But Arthur didn't answer him. He had questions of his own. Merlin watched him as his shoulders sagged. "All this time..." Arthur began, voice hoarse, pained. "All this time that you stood by my side, fought with me, encouraged me... it was just a lie? To what? To get close to me? To _use_ me?"

Merlin pushed up from the ground, jaw set as he stared on, still watching the back of Arthur's head. "Uther's hatred of magic has blinded you. You see only the bad. You see how it would be used to exploit you and harm those you care about. Magic isn't like that..."

"Then tell me, _Mer_ lin," Arthur growled out, turning to glower at Merlin. Rage lit up his eyes, his hand gripping his sword so tight that Merlin was sure it had to hurt. "What _is_ magic like? Since you used it on my father, since you used it on Gwen, you should know all about it."

"You think I wanted that?" Merlin asked, and he could feel tears burning at his eyes, threatening to spill. "You don't think I tried to save them?"

"You killed him!" Arthur shouted, taking a step forward but no more. "You killed my _father_!"

Merlin shook his head furiously, moving forward also, that single step, closing the gap between them. "I didn't know... I swear I didn't. I tried to save him but..."

The words fell flat, the explanation with them. He shook his head, allowing it to fall forward. How could Arthur, who knew so little about magic, Arthur, who had only witnessed it being used with bad intention, how could he understand?

"Is there no one I can trust?" Arthur asked, the question almost a whisper, distraught in its breathlessness. "First Morgana, then Agravaine, and now... you?"

"You _can_ trust me, Arthur," Merlin answered, meeting piercing and angry eyes once more. "Believe it or not, I'm on your side."

"You're on my side? This whole time you've been deceiving me!"

"And what was I supposed to do? Announce to the whole of Camelot that I'm a sorcerer? Camelot doesn't exactly welcome my kind."

But instead of acknowledging Merlin's defence, Arthur's gaze fell to the forest floor. He looked so lost and at war with himself. And despite all his words, all his hatred toward magic, Merlin didn't blame him. How could he when it wasn't Arthur's fault? He couldn't even bring himself to blame Uther. In part he blamed himself, not for lying to Arthur but for being unable to prove to him how good magic could be, for being unable to show him the beauty behind magic. But mostly he blamed those who had shown Arthur the opposite, those who had reinforced the idea that magic was wrong and evil.

"I trusted you," Arthur breathed out, anger faded to be replaced by something so much worse. Desolation, sorrow...

"And I thought I could trust you," Merlin answered, letting go of a brief sigh before shaking his head to clear it and moving off toward his horse. He finished packing everything onto it in silence, taking the reins once he was done.

He barely took two steps before Arthur looked up to him, brow burrowed, confusion lining his voice. "Where do you think you're going?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow and looked Arthur up and down for a moment. "Well, I don't know about you but I'm going to get that cure and take it back to Gwen. I may be a sorcerer... but Gwen's my friend. I won't let her die if I can stop it."

* * *

They walked in silence after that, their progress slow. Arthur trailed behind, watching Merlin each step of the way.

Merlin. It made little sense to Arthur and that was what frustrated him most. How was he supposed to believe, to accept, that Merlin, _Merlin_ , was a sorcerer?

The old man with the blue eyes, the first time Arthur had seen him, there was something about him, something oddly familiar. That feeling never left. Not the second or the third time. Not the last. But never, never in a thousand years, would Arthur have thought that Merlin and the old sorcerer were one in the same... if not for the wound at his side, the one caused by Arthur's own blade.

Guilt settled in Arthur's stomach, knotting it up, and he growled at himself for it. He wasn't supposed to be feeling guilty. He was supposed to feel angry, betrayed, and on some superficial level he did. He felt all that he was supposed to be feeling, but there was also so much more... so much that didn't fit.

But Merlin had lied to him, he kept telling himself. All that time Merlin had been at his side, he had been lying. For that, Arthur felt a fool. An ignorant fool who had been played. And yet, when he had held the tip of his sword to Merlin's throat, he couldn't do it because it was Merlin, and after everything, Arthur didn't want to believe that Merlin was a sorcerer. Not Merlin...

"How long?" he asked, voice scratchy as it broke through the fallen silence. It was part question, part demand.

"What?" Merlin asked in return, clipped and irritated. He didn't look back, simply pushing another branch out of the way and continuing forward.

"How long have you practised sorcery?"

"It's not as simple as that."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "How isn't it?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Arthur quickened his pace, gripping Merlin's arm tight and forcing the pair of them to stop, forcing Merlin to turn to look at him. But whilst Merlin did turn, he didn't meet Arthur's eyes.

"Try me," Arthur continued, this time it was full demand.

After a moment's hesitation, Merlin raised his eyes, his jaw set firm. "I was born like this."

The words caused Arthur to stall. "How is that even possible?"

Merlin took the opportunity to pry his arm free and turned away, setting off with his horse once more. "I don't know," he answered, "you tell me, seeing as you're the expert on magic and all its uses."

Arthur ignored the remark and followed behind, his brow burrowing in contemplation. "You're saying you were _born_ with magic?" he questioned. "And you came to _Camelot_... the place where magic is banned?"

"When you live in a small village, people tend to notice when you're... _different_."

"But still..." Arthur continued, swatting away the small insect that began buzzing in his ear. "Why Camelot?"

"Why not?" Merlin asked right back.

"Because you have magic! You could have been..." The words trailed away, the thought and anger with them. It shouldn't have bothered him, Merlin's carelessness and lack of regard for his own life. But it was just so... _Merlin_ , and Arthur wished he would just stop that and start acting like the sorcerer he was so Arthur could hate him without feel so damn guilty.

His eyes fell to the forest floor momentarily before rising once more to watch Merlin, the buzzing insect now bothering him instead. He waved it away several times before slapping at his neck and coming to halt. Arthur stopped too. For a whole breath, he stayed still, waiting for Merlin to move. Then Merlin swayed and stumbled and all previous thoughts were lost, drowned out.

"Merlin!" Arthur called, racing forward to catch the young manservant before he had a chance to fall to the ground.

Merlin didn't reply, his brow furrowed and eyes glazing over, confusion settling in them. He struggled and writhed within Arthur's grip, his gaze moving back and forth constantly, lost to the fog behind Arthur. Arthur chanced a glance over his shoulder but saw nothing. Looking back to Merlin, his eyes found the red mark already forming on the young man's neck and he understood.

"Merlin," he tried, forceful as he tried to meet Merlin's eyes, but Merlin refused to tear his gaze away from whatever it was he thought he saw. "There's nothing there!"

Words twisted on Merlin's tongue, the language strange and nonsensical to Arthur, and blue eyes turned gold. Barely more than a whisper, Merlin repeated the words... eyelids falling closed briefly. Then once more, only this time, the words vanished into a breath and Merlin's head slumped forward.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, almost afraid to voice the name. He swallowed the fear and tightened his jaw. "Merlin, now isn't the time to be falling asleep!"

But there was no response and Arthur found himself sinking to the ground with Merlin.

"Merlin... you have to wake up. I'm still angry at you, so you have to wake up... please."


	7. Chapter 7

Morgana paced the floor of her makeshift home. Two days had passed since she had presented the dear Guinevere with her 'gift', and yet no word had spread from Camelot about the Queen's demise or the King's devastation. No whispers had met her ears.

The plan had been perfect. In order to destroy Arthur, she would destroy the thing he held closest to his heart. She would destroy Gwen. Using the poison Morgause had told her of, and a simple transformation spell, it would be all too easy to slip into Camelot and kill the Queen before anyone could act. Only, it wasn't just anyone who had been there.

Fury rushed through Morgana and a frustrated scream pushed out from her lungs. A snarl took place when silence fell once more, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Emrys," she muttered, cold and callous, before reaching for her cloak.

It didn't take her long to reach the gates of Camelot, and she slipped in with ease, distracting the guards long enough to allow her passage. The streets were dark and lifeless, the only few stranglers on them too drunk to notice the hooded figure passing them by. The only one to notice, to suspect, was the familiar face up ahead, and that was only because Morgana chose to let him see.

She turned a corner, into a dingy alley, making her way towards the silence, away from the prying eyes. He followed her like a moth following a flame, and she lured him, like a predator luring its prey. When she came to a stop, she kept her back to him, a small smile playing at her lips.

"Show yourself," he demanded, drawing his sword.

She lowered her hood and turned to face him. "Now is that any way to treat a lady, Sir Gwaine."

He sneered. "You're no lady."

"That's not a very nice thing to say now, is it?"

But he ignored her words and took a step forward, raising his sword to point it at her chest. "What is your business here, Morgana? Have you not done enough already?"

She took a step forward also, so the tip of the blade was all but touching her. "I merely wish to pass on my condolences to my dear brother."

At that, Gwaine scoffed, a cocky smile taking hold of his features. "Well then, _my lady_ ," he answered, offering a mocking bow, "you've wasted your time."

She narrowed her eyes. It couldn't be. Gwen was still alive? "And why is that?"

"Your little _trick_ didn't work. Arthur's on his way right now to fetch the cure. He'll be back any day now."

Morgana stalled momentarily. Morgause hadn't mentioned a cure. "And tell me, Sir Gwaine, where has he gone? Where is this cure?"

Gwaine shook his head. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

A smile weaved its way onto Morgana's face, deadly. "Néadhæs feorhbold," she whispered, the words slipping from her lips like a snake's hiss.

The effect was instant, Gwaine's arm and sword lowering, a look of confusion passing over his features. He said nothing though, even as his teeth gritted and shoulders tensed, attempting to fight the hold that Morgana had.

"What do you think it feels like," she started, taking another step closer as Gwaine's hold adjusted on his sword so that the point was now aimed at his own chest, "to be run through with your own sword?"

That cocky smile still sat upon Gwaine's lips and he forced a scoff. "Not exactly how I imagined dying, but I can think of worse ways."

Silence stretched between the two of them, Morgana's smile teasing as the tip of blade came to rest upon Gwaine's chest. She was stopped in her toying only by a shout from somewhere in the main street, a second knight – Gwen's brother if Morgana was correct.

"Gwaine!" the knight called, agitated, no doubt from Gwaine's ever present 'charm'.

Morgana held a finger up to her lips, meeting Gwaine's eyes as she moved to pull her hood back up. She kept the spell in place, backing up into the shadows to disappear into the night. When she was far enough away, she released her hold and heard the distant shouts from Gwaine. By the time she reached the gates and was safely out of Camelot once more, the warning bells began to toll.

* * *

Merlin found himself staring into flames. They flickered and lashed out at him with the promise to take hold and never let go. He could feel their heat upon his skin; feel the suffocating smoke that accompanied them, choking him and gripping his lungs tight.

He stumbled backwards, away from the fire, until he could make out a figure shadowed within the centre of the heat. The flames were too thick for him to make out who it was, but a sickening dread that caused his stomach to drop told him that he knew. His whole mind screamed the same thing until he realised it was not just his mind that was screaming, but the figure too.

"The punishment for sorcery is death," a familiar voice spoke up from beside him. "You know that, Merlin."

He turned his head enough to see Arthur standing beside him, eyes lost to the flames and the figure within them.

"Arthur," he breathed out, but the King made no sign that he had heard the whispered name. "Arthur, who is that?" he continued on regardless, motioning to the man in the flames.

"For crimes against Camelot, which you yourself have admitted to, this is your fate." It was the man in the flames that Arthur spoke to, voice flat, face emotionless. But his body was tense, rigid, his hand forming a fist by his side as it clung to a piece of blue fabric.

"Arthur," Merlin tried once more, gaze moving from his friend and to the man in the flames.

"Do you deny it?" Arthur questioned, voice lower, and when Merlin turned his head, it was to meet piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through him. "Merlin..."

He felt a hand upon his shoulder and moved to shirk it off. Only there was nowhere to move, and he slowly began to realise he was no longer standing but lying upon dirt ground, sticks and rocks digging into his back. Fingers tightened their grip on his shoulder and those same blue eyes stared down into his, but they were lacking the pained persecution that they had held a moment before.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, brow creased.

Merlin didn't answer. He was too busy taking in the scenery; the trees, the horses, and the small campfire that had all but faded. A dream, the sensible voice inside his head told him. The flames and the man within them had been nothing but a dream, and now he was free from it. That didn't stop the feeling from lingering, or the thudding of his heart and tightness in his chest.

"Merlin, you're safe," Arthur spoke again, and Merlin snapped his eyes toward him.

He swallowed hard before opening his mouth to speak, to ask Arthur what had happened, but a flash of movement off to the side stopped him in his tracks. His eyes searched the shadows of the forest but saw nothing further. Arthur gripped his chin, forcing his attention back on him.

"There's something there," was all Merlin could mumble, trying to break free of Arthur's grip to see what was beyond him. But Arthur was too strong, or was it that Merlin was too weak? His whole body felt sluggish, his mind too.

"Merlin, listen to me," Arthur ordered, voice clear, in control. "It's not real. There's nothing there."

A twig snapped, bushes rustled and Merlin shook his head. His gaze returned to the shadows once more and finally he saw. What he saw, he wasn't sure, but he did see. Eyes burned through the darkness, several pairs, bright and fiery, like tiny dancing flames, all trained on him and Arthur.

"Arthur," he tried to plead, closing his eyes briefly as his vision blurred and swam. There was a buzzing in his ears and a pounding in his head, but he knew what he saw. He knew. He tried to stand but Arthur pushed him back down, kept him where he was. "We have to..." he breathed, but the rest of the words fell away, lost as Arthur spoke over him.

"You're not well, Merlin. You have to rest."

Merlin shook his head. It didn't matter whether he was well or not. What mattered was that there was something in the trees beyond their small clearing and it was watching them – _several_ 'its' were. Several beings with flames for eyes. He searched his mind for a spell to aim their way, but the words scattered and jumbled up, tumbling from his lips like the random mumblings of a madman.

"Merlin," Arthur called to him, the name a sharp order.

Merlin paid him no heed and locked eyes with one of the beings. He thought he saw horns and teeth but the image of them faded quickly, the fog thickening around the creatures. Still the eyes burned bright. He swallowed thickly and forced his hand up.

"Berne firgenholt," he commanded, raising his eyes to a tree branch that hung low above the creatures.

Fire spread out across the branch, consuming it until it broke away from the tree and landed with thump on the forest floor. Merlin was only half aware of Arthur spinning away from him to take in the damage caused by his magic. The rest of him was focused on covering his ears and scrunching his eyes up as a screeching spread out, shrill and piercing, claiming the air for its own.

When it finally stopped, Merlin's ears were ringing and he opened his eyes to find the red dancing flames were gone from the darkness, the fire from the branch rising up to ward them off. And Arthur... of course. Merlin had almost forgotten.

But Arthur could berate him later, when his head wasn't spinning and darkness wasn't taking hold of his vision once more.

* * *

Insect bite, Arthur had told himself when Merlin had collapsed on him earlier. He recognised the red mark from having had so many of his own. But this was different, no usual bite, and as far as Arthur was aware, his manservant had had no adverse reactions to bites in the past, except from the constant moaning that usually followed. It was the forest, part of its charm. Not only did they have to watch out for huge rock creatures, now it seemed that small didn't make a creature of the forest any less deadly.

He had found a small clearing to set up camp. It was easier to do that than to keep on travelling, and it wasn't like Arthur could just leave a known sorcerer unattended. At least that was what he told himself. It had nothing to do with being unable to abandon a friend...

The pleading with Merlin to wake up, and staying close in case he did, had nothing to do with that either.

Only, as Merlin refused to wake up and had since started burning up, a fever setting in as his all too pale features twisted into a grimace, Arthur was having a hard time convincing himself of the lie. So when Merlin had woken, flustered and panicked, Arthur couldn't help but try to soothe him.

It was a conflict he never thought he would have to deal with, a mixed feeling that settled over him. His mind told him Merlin was a sorcerer, told him he was the old man involved in his father's death and in Gwen's current condition. But his heart told him Merlin was his servant, his advisor, his friend. And it was his heart that spoke louder as the fevered Merlin claimed to see something out in the darkness of the forest. Arthur saw nothing, nothing but shadows and fog.

At least until Merlin had muttered those nonsensical words and the large branch had dropped. Arthur could see that, and the blaze that had consumed it. It scared him somewhat, to think that Merlin, the useless, pain in the arse manservant of his, could do such damage so easily... and when he was clearly weakened by a fever.

But then Merlin was unconscious again and Arthur fell back onto the ground in an exhausted heap, one hand moving up the run through his hair. He cast a glance behind him and to the branch, the flames beginning to die. It made him wonder what else Merlin was capable of. What magic did Merlin possess? What spells did he know? And why, _why_ , had he come to Camelot?

Shifting himself to lean against a nearby tree trunk, Arthur folded his arms across his chest and looked out at the fallen branch, watching the last few flickering flames dancing upon its surface. It wasn't long before his eyes were falling closed, sleep coming to claim him also.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur was woken by a noise somewhere up ahead, the sound of something shifting in the brush. He groaned and pried his eyes open to see that grey light had somehow found its way in from the outside world, thinning the shadows that had gripped the forest. The fog was still thick though, but not so thick that he didn't recognise the figure up ahead, standing at the edge of the clearing, looking back to him.

"Merlin?" he questioned, pushing himself up a little, his burrowing at the sight of his manservant.

Merlin said nothing. Instead he turned and set off into the forest. It took Arthur only a moment to decide to chase after him.

"Merlin, wait... where are you going?" Arthur shouted, breaking through the brush and searching the thick fog for any sign of the idiot servant.

Silence. Then a flash of blue and red that could only belong to Merlin. Arthur was moving immediately, only stopping when a branch ensnared on his trousers and he was forced to pause long enough to detangle it. But he was moving again straight away, deeper into the forest and the fog, further away from the camp and the horses. And really, just where was Merlin going anyway? What did he think he was playing at?

"Merlin!" Arthur called once more, growling and cursing under his breath as he lost track of the manservant once more. "What are you doing?"

Another branch snatched at him, gripping at his chainmail, but he pulled away and broke free, stumbling backwards and into another small clearing. When he had righted himself, he turned to see Merlin once more, waiting at the edge. A small smile played at Arthur's lips and a light laugh broke free before he remembered he was meant to be angry at the manservant, not relieved.

"Merlin, what are you...?" His words died away, Merlin's attention elsewhere.

Arthur followed his gaze toward a second figure entering the clearing, one who looked all too familiar. The very sight had Arthur's brow burrowing further and his heart skittering, confusion taking hold. The muscular, not fat, build of the man, Arthur knew well. The mess of blond hair upon his head, the hard eyes that weren't usually that hard, were they? And the sword within his grip...

Arthur's hand moved toward where his sword should have been, before remembering he had left it back in the clearing in his hurry to chase after Merlin.

But the second figure's attention wasn't on Arthur, it was on Merlin. The second figure, who was Arthur, and yet wasn't, because Arthur was stood right there... watching the whole silent scene.

He found himself flinching when the other Arthur readied his blade. He could already see the direction it was headed but stepped forward too late to stop it – too late to stop the sword from piercing Merlin, slipping into him far too easily. And Merlin did nothing to stop it. He stood there, eyes locked on the other Arthur. Then the sword was pulled free and Merlin slumped to the ground, soundless.

It was a dream. Arthur was dreaming. He knew he was, because what else could it be but a dream? What else could it be...?

The other Arthur turned to him now, a smile spreading out into a maniacal grin made of teeth that were more animal than human, far too sharp, far too deadly, like the fangs of some wild beast. His eyes danced with red flames and Arthur was frozen, unable to move from the stare that held him in place. Slowly, the other Arthur stalked forward, opening his mouth wider with each step, like a snake readying itself to devour a mouse, or extremely large rat.

Then he lunged forward.

Arthur didn't have the chance to dodge, something solid crashing into his side and causing him to fall sideways to the ground. The other Arthur went soaring passed to land on the spot where Arthur had been. Only, it was no longer another Arthur. It was a gaunt corpse, with wiry red hair and horns atop its head. Its eyes, too large for the skull they were set in, bulged out to glare at Arthur, hunger written within their depths.

"BERNE!" came the cry from beside him, and the creature was engulfed in fire almost immediately, a shrill shrieking following.

When the fire had settled, swallowing up the creature with it, Arthur found he could breathe once again. He could _think_ once again and actually take in the scene around him. He turned his head to see Merlin half lying, half pushed up from the forest floor beside him, their legs tangled together after the fall. His arm was still raised, hand out and aimed at where the _thing_ had been, as if commanding it to stop.

Arthur swallowed hard. Merlin was there. He was alive. He hadn't been killed as Arthur had stood by, useless, and watched. But had saved Arthur. He, a sorcerer, had saved Arthur. Why, when he knew Arthur's views on magic? Why, when Arthur had already injured him for what he was?

But the moment of contemplation was short lived and Arthur jumped to his feet. "What was that?" he demanded, motioning between Merlin and the place where the creature had been.

Merlin made no attempt to stand, instead choosing to look up to Arthur from where he lay on the ground. He had some of the colour back in his features, though considering how pale the damn manservant was usually, that wasn't saying much. His hair was still flat against his brow from where he had been sweating the fever out, but he no longer looked as if a fever was bothering him. In fact, he looked just as well and just as annoying as ever.

"Well, if I had to guess," he began to answer, in that tone that usually meant he was about to come out with some smartass remark, "I would say that's the reason this forest is so dangerous."

"Not that!" Arthur growled out, before mimicking Merlin's earlier hand gesture. "That! The 'berne' or whatever."

"Ah..." And Merlin seemed to sink a little, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he offered up his answer. "Magic?"

"Magic?" Arthur repeated. He began pacing. Not only had Merlin decided to reveal to him that he was sorcerer, now he was blatantly using magic in front of him. Blatantly using it to... He shook his head, shook the thought away, and raised his arm to point back the way they had come, back to the camp. "And that thing with the branch and the fire, that was magic too?"

Merlin pushed himself up from the ground to stand, dusting himself off as he did. "No," he answered, innocent as he met Arthur's eyes, "that was just a coincidence."

Arthur paused, his frown deepening and head tilting slightly to the side as he considered Merlin. "Really?"

Merlin's jaw dropped and he let go of a breath. "Yes! That was magic too! Do you really think something like that could just happen all by itself?"

"Well," Arthur started, eyes falling to the ground, "it has in the past."

And that right there should have meant something to him. He had known the fire and the branch was magic because he had seen Merlin do it. He had seen Merlin's eyes flare gold, heard the words twist upon his tongue. So he had known it was magic, even if he had a hard time admitting it to himself.

He raised his gaze to meet the knowing look in Merlin's eyes as the manservant offered up a half shrug, his lips thinning in a way that said 'well, that's kind of obvious now, isn't it?'.

"You mean to tell me," Arthur started, head lowered a little but eyes still focused on Merlin, "that all those times... that was you?"

"Well, maybe not every time," Merlin answered, another shrug before he pursed his lips as if considering something. "Actually, yes, most of the time... probably all of the time."

" _Merlin_..."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"You're a sorcerer!"

Merlin nodded. Just once. His eyebrows rising. "Yes, I thought we'd covered that already."

"Aren't you supposed to try and kill me or something?" Because in all honesty, Arthur was having a truly hard time understanding it all. Everything he had learned of magic, everything he had witnessed... and then along came Merlin, being... _Merlin_.

Merlin seemed to think on this for a moment before answering. "I suppose I could, but I think that would be rather counterproductive considering everything, don't you?"

Arthur just huffed out and stared, stared real hard. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Well, it looks like you're feeling better," was all he found he could say.

Merlin's hand moved up to his neck and to the red mark that still sat there. He frowned a little. "You could have just left me..."

Arthur said nothing. Instead, he hung his head and turned away. "We better head back to the horses before anymore of those things attack."

"Arthur," Merlin breathed out, stopping Arthur in his tracks momentarily. "Thank you."

* * *

The insect bite on Merlin's neck itched, irritating him. He scrubbed at it, remembering what Gaius had once told him. An itch could be the sign of something getting better, but then again, it could also be the sign of an infection setting in. Merlin just hoped it was the former. After all, he couldn't protect Arthur from things in the forest and retrieve the cure for Gwen if he kept fainting. And he did feel like his strength was returning to him, even if chasing after Arthur and that _thing_ had left him somewhat drained.

They had returned to the camp without any further incidents, which Merlin was thankful of, and had gone on to pack everything up to start moving again. One day and one night, that was all they had been in the forest for, and already Merlin was feeling increasingly anxious to be out. If the rock creature and the beings with red flames for eyes didn't kill him, he was sure the silence between him and Arthur would.

Arthur was thinking. Merlin knew this. He knew the frown and burrowed brow well, and the way Arthur's eyes trailed the floor as if hoping to find the answers there. He knew the troubled look and the stubborn quiet. He just didn't know _what_ Arthur was thinking, and he really wished he did.

Walking in that gloom, eyes searching the brush for any sign of danger, it was all nothing compared to waiting for the death sentence to pass Arthur's lips. The fevered dream had brought an ache to Merlin's chest, a surety that Arthur would follow in his father's footsteps. But Arthur had stayed with him during the fever, and as far as Merlin could tell, the young king had cared for him as best he knew how to.

"Arthur," he started, breaking the heavy silence.

Arthur shook his head from where he walked with his horse up front. "Not now, Merlin."

But Merlin pushed on. "Arthur, please..."

Arthur's head hung down and he came to a stop, his words flat, emotionless. "Of all the people, I came to trust you most, Merlin."

Merlin paused, watching the king, the _man_ , in front of him. "I'm no different from the person you knew two days ago."

"You're a sorcerer! You have magic!" Arthur swung to look at Merlin, but his eyes weren't angry, they were still so lost, so uncertain, and hurt. Then his gaze fell to the floor. "You should have told me."

Merlin swallowed the small lump in his throat. "You weren't ready."

"Well," Arthur breathed, meeting Merlin's gaze a little, "maybe I am now."


	9. Chapter 9

Morgana moved swiftly. She had no time to waste. There was no telling how far Arthur was ahead of her, but if he was heading to the Castle of Havlor, then she had the advantage. She knew what dangers laid ahead and she knew a way around them. After all, Morgause had told her more than just about the poison. She had told her of a quicker route, one that bypassed the Forest of Brégnes and all that lay inside it. A network of caves that led straight to the castle.

And it had to be Havlor that Arthur was heading to, no doubt with Merlin in tow, because where better place to find a cure than at the same place you would find the poison?

Hooves pounded at the ground, leaving imprints in the mud behind. Morgana ushered the horse on, pushed harder. She had to reach the castle before Arthur... She couldn't fail. Not again.

* * *

For the longest time, Merlin looked to Arthur and Arthur looked to Merlin, each waiting for the other to speak. Merlin opened his mouth but the words refused to form. What was he supposed to say? Where was he supposed to start?

"I wanted to tell you," he found himself saying, his gaze falling to the forest floor briefly. "But I was afraid..."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur answered, solemn. "No one should have to life in fear for their life like that."

"It wasn't dying I was afraid of." Merlin shook his head, jaw set from determination as he met and held Arthur's eyes once more. "I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I would sacrifice my life for yours ten times over and I would die happy knowing _you_ are King of Camelot, knowing _you_ will bring peace to Albion. I just wanted you to trust me..."

Arthur swallowed, his eyes glistening in the dim light, wide in the way they always were when he seemed surprised by something Merlin had said. "Merlin..."

"I know you have been wronged by magic, but I swear, I would never use my magic to harm." He took a breath. "When your father... when he..." The words trailed away, unsaid, but the meaning still lingered. "I just wanted to show you how magic can be used as a force for good. I never meant for him to die."

"And Gwen?" Arthur questioned, but it was not an accusation, the words too soft.

"I had to stop the poison from spreading until we could find a cure."

"Why?" Arthur breathed, brow burrowed as he considered Merlin.

"She's my friend."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't mean..." He swallowed and tried again. "I mean, all this time you've been in Camelot, if you had been discovered... my father would have had you executed. Heaven knows he nearly did enough times..."

"It's my destiny – to stay by your side, to protect you."

Arthur looked at him, unwavering, studying him and Merlin shifted under the scrutiny. "And you would willingly put yourself in danger, give up your life, for _destiny_?"

"I would do it for Albion. For you."

A small shake of the head, eyes narrowed from trying to understand something. "Just when I thought I had you figured out."

Merlin just smiled a half smile and shrugged. "I'm still me... I'm still Merlin."

Arthur scoffed, eyes rolling and eyebrow rising as he offered up an appraising look. "Yes, you still look like the same idiot who comes to work late and spends far too much time in the tavern."

Merlin's smile grew, twitching at the corners of his lips. "And you're still the same arrogant _prat_ as always."

The tension faded a little, the empty silence more comfortable than before. Merlin's shoulders still felt heavy from the weight placed upon them, but it eased slightly, just enough to make it bearable, enough to allow him to breathe again.

After a further moment of neither of them saying anything, Arthur cleared his throat and turned away, setting off once more into the forest. Merlin followed, reaching up to scratch at the bite on his neck every so often as they walked. It was when Arthur looked back to him and saw the motion that the topic was raised.

"How is it?" the young king questioned, eyes going back up to the trail ahead.

Merlin pulled his hand away from the bite and shrugged. "It's just itchy now."

"No more fever?"

"No more fever," Merlin confirmed.

Arthur nodded, breathed out, and then spoke again. "I've never heard of an insect bite having that effect before."

"I have," Merlin answered, eyes falling to the ground. When Arthur said nothing, Merlin took that as a sign to elaborate. "Back in Ealdor, when I was young. A group of men from the village had been travelling and they claimed they were attacked."

"Attacked?" Arthur glanced over his shoulder, gaze questioning as it met Merlin's

Merlin nodded. "Insects as big as your fist, so they said."

Arthur scoffed. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad."

"Two of the men were dead by the time they brought them back."

Silence met the revelation, Arthur's head hanging forward a little in contemplation.

"They died within a day of being bitten. First a fever... then death."

"Well then," Arthur started, clearing his throat a little as he continued on awkwardly, "let's just hope we don't see any that big."

But Merlin only half heard Arthur, his eyes, and attention, trained on what was ahead of them. It was difficult to make out through the fog but he was almost certain of what he saw. Red eyes dancing in the brush, their shapes all but hidden by the fog, and two figures leading them.

"Arthur," he breathed out in warning, coming to a stop with his horse.

Arthur paused also, nodding, his shoulders squaring up. "I see them."

Pulling his sword from its sheath, Arthur kept his eyes focused ahead and handed the lead for his horse backwards. Reluctantly, Merlin stepped forward to take it.

"You can't be serious, Arthur," he argued, voice lowered to a hush. "It's too dangerous."

"And what do you propose we do, Merlin? I highly doubt they'll just allow us to pass."

And Merlin couldn't argue with that. The creatures didn't look like the kind that would allow them to flee. So he gripped Arthur's arm with his free hand. "I won't let you do this alone."

Arthur turned to him, looking him up and down before finally nodding. Then he returned his attention to the creatures with burning red eyes. "Merlin...?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Whatever happens, you have to make sure Gwen gets that cure."

Merlin laughed, nervous. "How bad could it be?"

"Merlin," Arthur repeated the name in low warning, and Merlin understood, knew that Arthur needed the reassurance.

"We'll get through this," Merlin answered, determined as he bobbed his head. "We'll get to Havlor and we'll get that cure and take it back to Gwen."

But it seemed the creatures would not make that task easy. The creatures were done waiting and Merlin found his gaze travelling over the area as the fiery eyes spread out to surround them. Arthur's attention was up ahead on the two figures that stood there and Merlin felt his heart sink a little as he realised why. Arthur couldn't see the fiery eyes; he could only see what the creatures wanted him to see, which was why Merlin wasn't surprised when the two figures disappeared, becoming nothing but another two pairs of eyes in the fog.

"What in the..." Arthur started, searching left and right. "Where did they go?"

"They're still there," Merlin answered, watching each set of eyes carefully, waiting. "You just can't see them."

Bushes rustled off to the left and Merlin turned in time to see the flash of red and teeth. He threw the spell out effortlessly but the creature was fast and dodged just as effortlessly. The spell hit the brush instead, fire taking hold. Flames rose, flickering in the fog and gloom, and Merlin noted how the creatures gave the area a wide berth. It made him think of how they had reacted before, with the burning branch and how easily the fake 'Arthur' one had been consumed by the flames.

"They don't like the fire," he called to Arthur, spinning to face the young King.

One of the creatures swooped in, transforming as it did so. Merlin felt his chest tighten at the sight of himself standing right in front of Arthur, intent to kill written on his features. Arthur was fairing little better, he raised his sword to strike but halted, unable to strike. The creature took advantage of the hesitation and lunged forward.

Merlin barely made it in time, the spell twisting at his tongue and catching the creature dead on. It screeched as it burned up and fell to the floor just short of Arthur.

"Don't let their looks fool you!" Merlin warned.

He never had the chance to hear Arthur's reply, never saw what happened next with the young king. One of the creatures crashed into him, sending him flying sideways and into the ground. He managed to right himself enough so that he was facing the creature head on when it landed atop of him, pinning him to the forest floor. It wasn't just eyes now, but more of a corpse, it's wiry red hair standing on end as if it had had a nasty fright, and it's mouth opening wider and wider to reveal the fangs hidden within.

Then its head was suddenly gone, landing off somewhere to the side, and Merlin found himself looking up at Arthur instead, blade tight in his grip.

"Taking a break, are we, Merlin?" he mocked, holding out his hand.

Merlin gripped it, pulling himself up from beneath the creature's headless body. He said nothing in reply to Arthur's jab, too busy focusing on the red eyes that still danced in the fog. Five pairs if he was right, but as they kept shifting and moving, it was hard to be sure.

"They can change their shape," he started, trying to keep track of each set of eyes, waiting for the next strike, "and they can disappear almost completely."

"I had noticed that, yes, thank you, Merlin," Arthur shot back, irritable.

"But I think they need to be in that particular form," Merlin motioned toward the dead creature, "to... feed."

"Wonderful," Arthur drawled out, a low growl etched into the word.

But they knew fire could kill them. They knew beheading also worked. And if they had to be in a certain form to feed, then that meant Arthur would be able to see them at the last moment and being Arthur, he would be quick enough to react. Or so Merlin hoped. So how hard could it be? They had already killed two and there were only another five to go.

Except there wasn't. Not anymore.

Merlin let go of a long breath, watching as several more sets of eyes joined the five, and then several more. "Arthur..."

"I know – be ready."

Merlin shook his head. "We can't fight them."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur looked to him, then his eyes took on a look of understanding. "How many?" he breathed out.

"Too many to count."

Arthur nodded, head lowering in thought. When he raised it, he met Merlin's gaze. "We need to hold them back long enough to escape."

"Right..." Merlin frowned, burrowing his brow. "And how do we do that?"

"If we could create a ring of fire to hold them back long enough to mount the horses..."

"Then we could try and outrun them?"

Arthur nodded. "It's the only way."

Merlin took a deep breath, nodding. He understood what Arthur meant. He understood the implication. Magic. Use magic to create a circle of fire.

"Néadhæs bryne trendel behlænan," he commanded, concentrating all of his mind and his energy, all of his magic, on creating a circle of fire around them and the horses. He raised his hand, felt his magic flare, and watched as the flames rose, jumping up to ward away the creatures.

Within moments, they had mounted the horses and when both were ready, Merlin created a small pass in the flames, enough for them to get through. Arthur set off first and Merlin followed straight after. Hooves pounded against dirt and they raced forward, onward and onward, through the fog and the trees, dodging branches and bushes, neither looking behind – not daring to.


	10. Chapter 10

Riding through the forestry, the fog thick and oppressing, was difficult but not impossible. At one point Arthur had to swerve quickly to dodge a low hanging branch, but he managed it. After all, these were horses of Camelot and he had been riding since almost birth. A quick glance behind told him Merlin was faring well also. He didn't see any creatures, though that meant nothing as it seemed they were capable of hiding themselves – from him at least.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, his eyes up ahead.

Arthur heeded the warning and turned his head back up front in time to avoid another branch. He growled at himself for the lack of concentration, but the growl quickly faded as he spotted something. The fog was thinning up ahead, the brush too, and unless Arthur was imagining it, the forest was coming to an end. In just a few more moments, they would be free of it, and hopefully also free of the creatures that dwelled inside.

Encouraging the horse on, he pushed harder. They were so close, so nearly there, but they weren't there yet.

"Hurry up, Merlin!" he called behind him, growl returning to his voice.

Merlin didn't answer, the sound of his horse's hooves enough of a response for Arthur as they quickened in pace.

Arthur could see light breaking through in front of him now, could see the start of blue sky beyond the tree line. He dug his heels in, guided the horse, and held his breath until he too had broken through. He heard Merlin shout from behind him, something in that strange tongue of his, words twisting so easily, as if it wasn't a second language at all but something that came naturally to him, like swordsmanship came to Arthur.

Free of the forest, Arthur slowed his horse and turned to see a blaze of fire spreading out across the tree line, Merlin turning in his saddle to face up front once more. The shrieking, the horrible high pitched noise, echoed and then faded as Merlin joined him at his side. Both looked back the forest, no words needed, then silently, they turned away and set out across the open space, onward toward the Castle of Havlor.

The brightness of the sun high above, sky cloudless and blue, was a complete contrast to the forest, so much so that Arthur wondered if he was dreaming and would wake any moment to find himself leaning against a tree stump, campfire dwindling in front of him. Even the air was clearer, easier to breathe in. Everything seemed more colourful, the grass greener, the dirt browned and Arthur let go of a long breath of relief.

Pace slower, they continued on, across the plain. It wasn't long before the castle came into sight and Arthur paused in his tracks to take it in. Though many of the walls still appeared to stand tall, some had fallen away. The condition of it was too good to have been damaged by war but it was clear that the place had not been in lived in for a long time. Whether it was storms or some other force that had caused it to fall into disrepair, Arthur wasn't sure, but he was sure that at some point, the castle had been a great one.

"That must be it," Merlin spoke up from beside him, a hint of awe to his tone.

Arthur looked at him, his eyebrow rising. "Really, Merlin? Because I thought that maybe it was the _other_ castle – the one hiding _behind_ that one."

Merlin pulled a face, lips twisting a little. "I'll just keep quiet then, shall I?"

Letting a smile play on his own lips, Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure that's even possible for you, Merlin."

"This coming from the man who talks in his sleep."

The smile died to be replaced by a look of irritation and Arthur glared at Merlin. "I do _not_ talk in my sleep."

"If you say so, Sire," Merlin answered, voice sing-song and innocent. He offered up a smile, that idiotic one of his, and clicked his tongue, gently encouraging his horse to move once again.

Arthur grumbled under his breath but did the same, tapping his heels against his horse to catch up with his manservant. "I am the King of Camelot," Arthur continued on, as if this alone exempted him from talking in his sleep.

"Yes, you are," Merlin replied, turning to lock eyes with him briefly before looking ahead once more. "But you still talk in your sleep. And you snore."

" _Merlin_ ," Arthur drawled out in warning.

"Yes, Sire?"

"Shut up."

* * *

As they neared the castle, Merlin found his eyes drawn to bits of rubble scattered about the place. Some of it most definitely belonged to the castle but one pile in particular seemed off, out of place. He narrowed his eyes at it, his stomach tightening. Something was wrong.

Coming to a stop, he jumped down from his horse, the movement still jarred by the wound at his side but easier than it had been. He gripped the reigns with one hand and led the horse toward the pile of rubble before kneeling in front of it. It was a lighter colour that the stone from the castle and even though it looked as though it had been blown apart, pieces of it still retained their shape – a smooth outer surface that meant it had most likely been a statue at some point.

He reached out a hand to turn a piece over onto it's back and recognised the shape and form, the hardened features – almost like a man, and yet not. The rock creature from the forest.

"Merlin," Arthur called to him, impatient, "you can play with rocks all you want when we get back to Camelot."

"Arthur, you should see this." Merlin looked up to him, watched him roll his eyes and jump down from his horse.

"It's just a rock, Merlin," he answered, approaching Merlin and the pile of rubble.

Merlin shook his head and raised his gaze to the castle. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. "We're not the only ones here."

"What are you talking about?"

"This!" He picked up a piece of the rock and held it up for Arthur to see. He waited for a response and when none came, he continued on. "Doesn't it look familiar to you?"

"Yes, Merlin – it looks like a rock." Arthur tilted his head to the side, that mocking never leaving his eyes as his lips twitched.

Merlin let go of a breath, shoulders slumping. "It's that _thing_ , from the forest. The... rock thing! And it wasn't like this the last time we saw it so unless it just fell apart all by itself, someone else is here – someone who wanted to be at that castle."

"Or," Arthur drawled out, gripping the back of Merlin's shirt and dragging him up from the ground, " _maybe_ it's not the same one."

The piece of rubble tumbled from Merlin's grip and he nodded reluctantly, his jaw tight, tension still gripping him. It was possible, but it didn't sit right with Merlin, didn't feel right.

Head tilted even further to the side, Arthur widened his eyes, lips pouting even more mockingly. "Do you want me to hold your hand, Merlin?"

"Why?" Merlin shot back, allowing a grin to spread across his lips. "Are you scared?"

There was no verbal reply. Instead, he received a slap around the back of his head for his remark. He rubbed at the spot, feigning injury, though it didn't really hurt. After all, what was a tap to the back of the head compared to all those times he had knocked Arthur unconscious for whatever reason? Still, that didn't stop him from pulling a face.

"What was that for?"

Arthur just smiled, tight and wicked. "I don't need a reason, Merlin." And he set off away from Merlin and toward a small tree nearby.

"Oh right," Merlin answered, tone derisive, "because you're the King of Camelot."

"No," Arthur called back to him as he tied his horse to the tree, "because you're my manservant."

"And that makes it alright, does it?" Merlin continued on, leading his horse to the tree also. He tied it next to Arthur's, half focused on the task and half focused on Arthur. "To be hitting servants around the back of the head? Or anywhere for that matter."

"But you're not just any servant, are you, Merlin? You're _special_ ," Arthur answered, playful and teasing. And it was a knack Arthur had, Merlin had come to notice, that he could turn what could so easily have been a compliment into an insult – just by the way he said it.

Merlin chewed at his lip, narrowing his eyes on Arthur, but he wasn't given a chance for a retort as Arthur turned away, his attention moving toward the castle, seriousness returning to him.

"Do you think it's really here?" he asked.

Merlin nodded, assertive and confident. "I know it is."

And Arthur looked to him, eyes glistening. He didn't say thank you. He didn't need to. Merlin heard it anyway. Then he seemed to shake himself and took a deep breath.

"Then we better go find it."

* * *

The castle was lavish, or at least Merlin was given the impression that it had been at one point. It was also pretty sparse, the rooms all but empty. It wasn't until they came to the great dining hall that they finally found anything worthwhile.

It was set up, with a lengthy table in the centre, plates and goblets upon it, as if it were ready for a huge feast to commence. But there was no room for anyone to join, the only seat, at the head of the table, being occupied by what looked like nothing but cobwebs from the doorway. The closer they drew though, the more they saw, until Merlin realised it was a man, or had been at one point.

"That must be the lord," Arthur breathed out, coming to a stop on one side of the man.

Merlin stopped at the other side, his eyes on the dish before the man. "Looks like he was poisoned in the end."

Arthur nodded. "Which means he never got the chance to take the cure."

This time Merlin nodded, gaze moving over the man in the seat, all cobwebs and cloth and bone, no longer really a man at all. Then he looked up to Arthur who met his eyes, almost expectantly. It took him a moment to catch on.

"I'm not..." he started, shaking his head and taking a step back.

"Well I'm not going to."

"Someone has to check."

Arthur smiled, that devilish smile of his. "Merlin..."

With that one drawn out name came so much more, so much interlaced in it, the implication heavy. Master, servant. But it wasn't really about that. Not really. It was about both of them being uneasy about sticking their hands into a dead man's clothes to search for a cure, and not just any dead man... but a _really dead_ , dead man.

Merlin cringed and looked between the dead man and Arthur. "Really?"

"Where else would you keep a cure if not on you?"

Merlin cringed further and took a step forward. "If I catch anything..."

"Then I'll have you confined to your room for fear of it being contagious."

Merlin ignored the remark and took a deep breath before slowly undertaking the task, Arthur hovering over him, watching his every movement. But it was all in vain. There was nothing there, nothing that could be considered a cure.

"I don't understand," Merlin breathed out, falling back away from the body and looking up to Arthur. "It has to be here."

Arthur shook his head, anger and determination gleaming in his eyes as he pulled back the cloak of the dead man's, no longer seemingly afraid of getting his hands dirty. "There can't be nothing. We haven't come all this way to find nothing."

Merlin could feel his frustration, his fear. He felt it was as if it was his own, because it was. They had to find the cure because if they didn't, they couldn't save Gwen. But Gwen couldn't die. She couldn't.

Footsteps echoed outside of the room, slow and patient, drawing nearer and nearer. Both paused, and Merlin looked to Arthur, meeting his eyes and avoiding the 'I told you so' that echoed around his mind. When he turned his head to the doorway and the figure that entered its frame, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, and yet he felt his heart flutter and his chest tighten for a moment anyway.

Morgana leaned casually against the frame, taking the place of where a door had once hung, her smile wide and vicious as she looked between them both. Then she turned her attention to a small vial within her grasp, twisting it and turning it, looking it over.

"To think," she started, "how something so small can be so precious."

Merlin pushed up so he was standing once more. He held his tongue, but Arthur didn't hold his.

"Morgana," the young king breathed out, jaw tense, grip tightening around the hilt of his sword.

She held up the vial for them both to see clearly, the black liquid swirling from the movement. "I heard you were looking for this."


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur took a step forward, toward Morgana. He held his hand out, even though he knew Morgana would not just give up the cure so easily. But still, he had to try.

"Morgana," he breathed out, cautious as he met her eyes, "please... Think about what you're doing. Gwen is your friend."

Morgana let go of a light scoff and wrapped her fingers tight around the vial, hiding it from view. "I have no friends," she sneered, wrinkling her nose up in distaste at the word. Her eyes moved to Merlin, jaw set tight. "Why would I want friends who would poison me first chance they got?"

Arthur had to frown a little at that. The words were so weighted, so tainted with venom. He turned his head to Merlin, saw the manservant close his eyes and swallow hard, head moving down. When Merlin's eyes reopened, there was sorrow written there, but also determination. Arthur knew he was missing something, but he didn't ask. As much as curiosity bit at him, there were more pressing matters at hand.

"But that's all in the past," Morgana continued, drawing Arthur's attention back to her. False cheer entered her voice, a wicked smile gracing her lips. "Tell me, dear _Brother,_ how did you enjoy your journey? You did travel though the Forest of Brégnes, right?"

Arthur ignored her words, walking further forward, one hand still outstretched, the other ready on the hilt of his sword. "Morgana..." he pleaded.

But Morgana played ignorant also. "Our host," she started, eyes moving over the skeletal body of the old lord before meeting Arthur's once more, "had the forest filled with creatures from lands far outside of Camelot's reach, where magic is revered instead of _despised._ Where people with magic are gods, not criminals to be slaughtered."

Arthur had heard stories of such places in the past, had seen trinkets and strange animals that had supposedly come from lands faraway. Judging by the strangeness of the creatures in the forest, it wasn't much of a stretch to believe they too had come from someplace else. But Morgana's words pulled him from his thoughts of such places.

"What did they make _you_ see, Arthur?" she asked, her eyes alight with malice, tongue twisting around each word. "Which of your fears did they play out for you?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he shook his head, refusing to answer. Still, he couldn't help but think of the first time he had seen the creatures, when he had witnessed a vision of himself killing an image of Merlin. But he already knew his fears. He battled them every day. The fears of disappointing his father, mixed with the fears of making the same mistakes his father once had.

"If there's any trace of the person you once were," Arthur said instead of answering her taunts, "you would give me that cure so I can take it back to Camelot."

Morgana shook her head, one eyebrow rising and her lips quirking in one corner into a smirk. "I can't do that, Arthur. I have worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to lose now."

Arthur nodded and withdrew his sword from its sheath. "Then I have no choice but to take it by force."

"I had thought you might say that," Morgana answered, as if she knew something he didn't. And it seemed she did.

There was a hum in the air, a strange buzz that seemed to vibrate through it. At first, Arthur thought nothing of it, until he saw the first one – the first insect. At least he thought it was an insect. It must have been. Except it was like none he had seen before. It was too large, the size of a fist to be precise. It hovered in the air beside Morgana, wings clear and body red, like blood.

Arthur shared a look with Merlin. They both knew, even without Morgana explaining.

"They're not the most appealing of creatures, but they have their uses," she started, voice smooth as she seemed to almost coo at the flying insect. More joined it as she spoke. "They call them the Cwealm because one bite would be enough to bring death. Can you imagine, being able to harness that natural poison and make it into something even more potent?"

"Arthur," Merlin called to him, voice strained.

Arthur looked to him before following his gaze upwards. More insects began to gather, hovering up near the ceiling, until there were at least two or three dozen that Arthur could count.

"My final gift to you," Morgana said, taking a step back and out into the hallway. "You may join your beloved Gwen and suffer the same fate as her."

Words slipped passed her lips, a whisper on the air, so quiet Arthur could barely make the strange language out, and Morgana's eyes turned gold for the briefest of moments. One more flash of a vicious smile and she was turning and leaving them, the way to her blocked by those deadly, buzzing insects.

At first, the insects didn't move, they just hovered there, their wings vibrating in the air, creating an almost silent hum of noise. Then the hum became a violent whir and they all rushed forward at once.

Arthur struck out with his blade, sliced through three at a time as he turned on the spot in order to return to Merlin, to offer some protection for the hapless manservant. It truly hit him then, his gaze taking in Merlin, that Merlin didn't need his protection. He had no blade, no weapon at hand, and yet the buzzing insects barely made it within an arm's reach of him. Various words rolled from his tongue, and occasionally none at all, his eyes flashing gold in time with each insect that took a hit – each that burst into flames, or was sent spiralling backwards and crashing into things.

It seemed so easy and more effective than swinging around a heavy sword as Arthur was forced to do, cutting through several more of the insects as he half watched Merlin and half watched the red bodies and buzzing wings around him.

But it seemed no matter how many they disposed of, several more took their place. They had no choice, they had to get out of there before the whole hall became a writhing mass of blood red insects.

He darted forward and gripped the back of Merlin's jacket, dragging him toward the doorway as another insect went up in flames.

"We have to get out of here," he said, swinging Merlin around so he was closest to the door, and pushing him toward it. "Go!"

Merlin nodded, understanding the order and that there was no room for argument. Together, they pushed back, magic and metal colliding with the insects.

Arthur lashed out, taking down several more but missing another. Its near death experience apparently fuelled the creature on and it shot forward, too fast for Arthur to react to, too fast for him to swipe at it with his sword. He felt it at his neck, felt the sharp sting that followed and gritted his teeth, snatching the insect away from him at about the same time Merlin pulled him backwards and out into the corridor.

Already, Arthur could feel the fuzziness filling his mind, Merlin's words sounding distant, along with the crashing and crumbling of stone – the doorway to the great hall blocked off now. Arthur blinked and shook his head, attempting to clear it. It didn't work.

"Arthur, come on," Merlin ordered, "we get moving. We have to find Morgana."

Arthur laughed and then stumbled forward several steps before he caught hold of something to keep him upright, something that was far too lanky and surely not strong enough to take his weight, and yet it did.

"Arthur..." This time when Merlin spoke, it was with worry lining his voice and Arthur looked up to him, trying to make out his features through the blurred vision that was settling in. He didn't need to see though, he already knew the concern and fear that would be buried in Merlin's eyes, already knew the way his brow would burrow and how he would swallow thickly.

"Gwen," Arthur managed to force out, his sword falling from his grip, too heavy for him to hold any longer. "You have to..."

"It's going to be okay, Arthur," Merlin answered, shifting himself to take Arthur's weight and start walking.

"No! Merlin – Gwen..." Arthur pushed back, away from Merlin. He would only slow him down. But without Merlin there to keep him standing, he began to falter and sway. There was a brief sense of falling that was stopped only by the strong hands that gripped him, holding him still.

"We'll save Gwen," Merlin told him, and then he took Arthur's weight once more and started forward. Arthur didn't have the strength to push back again, he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open or stay conscious long enough to hear Merlin's next mumbled words. "But first, we have to save you."

Then all strength left him and he found himself plunging forward into ice cold darkness.

* * *

Merlin ensured they were out of the castle before lowering Arthur down to the ground, propping him up against one of the stone walls. His eyes were closed, his breathing more forced and Merlin feared it wouldn't be long before a fever set in also.

He placed a hand upon the bite on Arthur's neck and closed his eyes. Several spells tumbled passed his lips but none had the desired effect. None woke Arthur up. Part of him already knew they wouldn't, just as that same part knew why, but it was the more stubborn part of him that had to try anyway.

Morgana's words circled his mind. The Cwealm, that was what she had called the bugs. It was a fitting name, one that meant death and pestilence. And though she had not said as much, she had implied it – the poison that had laced the spindle and was currently inside of Gwen, it was from the Cwealm. Which meant the only way to save Arthur was with the very same cure that would save Gwen.

"Now, listen to me, your royal Pratness," Merlin started, watching Arthur's features as he spoke, "I'm going to find Morgana and get that cure so we can go back to Camelot, _together_ , and save Gwen. You hear me? So... don't die. Okay? Just... stay alive."

He swallowed and pushed up from the ground, reluctantly backing away from Arthur in order to go after Morgana. Within moments, he was running, his eyes searching the grounds for any sign of her as he hoped he would be in time.


	12. Chapter 12

"Morgana!" Merlin called, rounding a corner and spotting her mass of black hair.

She turned to face him, her head tilted gently to the side, the beginnings of a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. "You truly are like a worm, aren't you, Merlin? Always finding a way to wriggle free. Perhaps I should just squash you once and for all and finally be done with you."

Merlin shook his head, coming to a standstill. He looked her over, took in the anger and hatred in her eyes, and let go of a breath. "I feel sorry for you, Morgana. I know what it's like – to feel alone, to feel like no one can understand you. It doesn't have to be like this, Morgana. It never had to be like this."

A dry laugh slipped passed her lips. "It's not about _choice_! It's about destiny. This is my destiny, to destroy Arthur and gain the throne to Camelot."

Merlin's head dropped forward a little as her words washed over him. He had known for a long while now that there would be no talking to Morgana, she was too far gone, too swallowed up in her own hatred, her own pity. But occasionally he would see the fear and loneliness in her eyes, and it was that which made him try as he remembered who Morgana once was.

Raising his head again to meet her clear eyes, he squared his shoulders, ready for the fight he knew was coming. "Then it is my destiny to stop you. It is my destiny to keep both Camelot and Arthur safe."

Morgana laughed once more, this one more derogative, mocking. "And what do you think you could possibly do to stop me? Who do you think you are? You're nothing but a lowly servant who continues to get in my way."

It took Merlin a mere moment to decide, a breath to push passed the fears that hindered him. There was no more hiding and there would be no looking back. He stood tall. "I'm the one you've been looking for."

Eyes narrowed, Morgana looked him over. "What are you talking about?"

"The druids call me Emrys."

Shock found its way onto Morgana's face and she took a step back, shaking her head as she studied him once more. "That's not possible. I have _seen_ Emrys, I have fought with him... and you, you are not him. You don't even possess magic."

He took a step forward, closer to her. "I am the old man you fought with. I am the one Alator was protecting. How else could I have survived so long? How else could I be standing before you now?"

Morgana's nose wrinkled up, a scowl warping her features. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about! How could _you_ be Emrys? You, who is nothing but a thorn in my side."

She raised her hand, the words twisting at her tongue as her eyes flashed that familiar colour. "Néadhæs byre!"

Merlin lifted his own hand, solemn as he did so. "Bebod áswáme," he answered, and the gust of wind that rushed toward him died away to nothing more than a breeze. It rustled at his jacket and hair before fading completely.

Morgana shook her head, eyes widening. She stumbled back a step, her eyes searching around them, no doubt for a hidden sorcerer, someone who wasn't Merlin. Then she righted herself and sent a glare Merlin's way, her next words dripping with pure venom. "You have magic? All this time... _you_ , _you_ were Emrys?"

Merlin bowed his head briefly, swallowing the thick feeling that lodged itself in his throat. But it was no longer the Morgana he had once known that stood before him now, no longer the Morgana who sympathised and sought out peace. It was a Morgana who brought war and destruction with her, and Merlin could not forget that. He couldn't make the mistake of forgetting that, not when so much was at stake.

"Give me the cure, Morgana," he spoke up, meeting her eyes and holding his hand out.

"No!" Morgana spat back. "You! All this time, it was _you_. You poisoned me, you tried to kill me... and even now it's you. My _doom_."

"You don't want this, Morgana. You don't want any of this. Guinevere is your friend. She has done nothing to you. If you should be angry at anyone, it should be Uther or me, and Uther's dead now – so let's leave this between us. So, just give me the cure."

But his words had no effect, at least not in calming her. If anything, they seemed to make her angrier. "Fýrwylm," she commanded, hand outstretched, her tone hoarse from her own venomous fury.

A wave of fire spread out across the air and Merlin was forced to bring up both hands as he tried to push it back.

"Gescildan," he murmured, his magic shielding him from the fire until it dissipated. Slowly, he brought his arms back down to his side before taking a step forward once more. His next spell was aimed downwards and he needed no hand gestures for that, his words were enough. "Eorðstyrung beneoðan híe."

The earth rumbled, a tremor running through it. It shook them both, angry and violent until it began to crack and crumble beneath Morgana's feet. A look of worry passed over her features, eyes still wide as she looked up to Merlin.

"Ástille," she cried, desperate, but the earth did not obey, Merlin's hold on it too strong for her to overpower. "Ástille! Ástille!"

"I don't want this anymore than you, Morgana. I just want to save my friends," Merlin countered, taking another step toward her, closing the gap a little more.

"No! Stay back! If you come any closer I'll smash it!" Her words were like a snarl from a wounded animal, fraught and anxious. "I swear I will!"

She raised the vial to prove her point, readying her arm as if to throw it down. Merlin paused in his movements, holding his hands out in front of him, and the ground beneath them stopped in its complaining, becoming still once more.

"I did nothing to deserve this," Morgana hissed at him. "To be an outcast, to be hated... all because I have magic."

"You did this to yourself, Morgana. Neither Arthur nor Gwen had any qualms with you, yet still you were intent on destroying them and taking Camelot for yourself. You can't blame that on magic. That was all you."

"Says you, who is nothing more than a peasant with nothing expected of you. You may have magic but you know nothing."

"I know what it's like to be afraid of who you are, to live each day wondering if you're a monster. I know what it's like to have to hide yourself because if you don't, then that day could be your last. The only difference between us is how we choose to use our magic."

"I choose to be free," Morgana countered, straightening herself once more. Hand rising, she held it out to the side at a pile of rubble, the spell rolling from her tongue as she whipped her hand around to face Merlin. "Stán ábríeteþ," she commanded, and the bits of rubble followed the direction of her hand, the broken stones rising up from the ground before flying toward Merlin.

He dove out of the way but Morgana brought them back round. He had no choice but to summon his magic again to shield himself from the rocks. They hit the invisible barrier he brought up, smashed into it before crumbling and falling to the ground once more. It gave Morgana the chance to send something else in his direction. He only just caught the glint of metal in the air as the dagger rushed toward him.

"Áswáme!" he shouted, holding one hand out in the direction of the knife. It stopped midair before Merlin added one final push and sent it backwards, back toward Morgana.

Morgana didn't have time to react. It was too fast and she raised her hand too slow, her magic useless as the blade dug itself into her side. For a moment, she stayed as she was, looking down at the blade and though it was hard to tell with her black dress, Merlin imagined blood would be seeping out. Then she fell to her knees, her eyes rising to meet Merlin's, helpless... lost. He pitied her, pitied what she had become.

But the helplessness faded, replaced by rage. "You want your precious cure?" she shouted, holding the vial up. A sneer twisted at her features. "Then go and fetch it!"

In a single movement, she threw the vial off to the side and Merlin's eyes followed it. His feet were already moving, his magic already reacting, reaching out for the vial. He refused to let it hit the ground, refused to let the vial break. He slowed it enough to give himself time, and when the vial was safely in his grasp, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

He turned his head back around to see Morgana, to take in and react to whatever she next threw at him, but she was gone. The only sign of her, as Merlin walked over to where she had been, were the few drops of blood staining the grass and ground beneath his feet. His gaze searched the area for only a moment before he decided she would be too far gone. By then, his feet were already moving back toward the castle, back to Arthur.

The young king was just how he had been left, though if Merlin was honest, he did feel a little too warm to the touch, the fever already setting in.

"Okay, Arthur," Merlin said in the most authoritative voice he could muster, opening the vial of black liquid, "I need you to drink this."

He put the vial to Arthur's lips and forced the young king to take a sip. When nothing happened, he tried once more.

"I know you're the king and all," Merlin told him, feeling his heart clench within his chest, fear taking hold, "but you don't get to do what you want all the time, you know? Like right now, I really need you to wake up."

Arthur didn't respond and Merlin looked down to the cure. There was little over half left. If he was to use anymore on Arthur, then there most likely wouldn't be enough left to cure Gwen, but he could hardly just let Arthur die. He had to save them both. He had to find a way to save them both.

Eyes finding the bite mark on Arthur's neck, Merlin nodded, as sure as he could be of his decision.

"Do you trust me, Arthur?" he asked. "Because you're really going to need to..."

He held the vial up once more to Arthur's lips and let all but a small drop of the potion slip pass Arthur's lips. For a moment, nothing happened, then slowly, Arthur began to open his eyes.

"What in the world have you been making me drink?" he questioned, pulling a face of disgust as his nose wrinkled and he pushed himself up a little. Then his eyes widened and he gripped Merlin's arm as if to steady himself. "Woah..."

"Just give it a moment," Merlin told him.

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, some colour had returned to his skin and apparently some clarity to his mind too. He frowned at Merlin, brow burrowing. "What happened?"

"You were bitten, by one of the insects."

"I remember that... but what about Morgana. What happened to Morgana?"

Merlin hung his head a little. "She got away... I managed to get this from her," he answered, holding up the vial, "but..."

Arthur straightened up at the sight of the vial, his voice rising an octave or two. "It's almost empty! How are we supposed to save Gwen with just that?"

"I didn't have a choice," Merlin countered, meeting Arthur's gaze. "But we can still save Gwen, I know we can."

"How?" Arthur asked, irritated. "Do you have another bottle tucked up your sleeve or something? Because if that's the only one, I don't see how we could possibly use that _..._ that _drop_ to save Gwen."

"Arthur!" Merlin interrupted and Arthur held his tongue, his gaze meeting Merlin's again. "Please... trust me."

" _Merlin_ ," Arthur drawled out, head cocking to the side.

"Do you trust me, Arthur?" Merlin asked, repeating his earlier question.

And Arthur looked at him, anger fading as his eyes narrowed a little, uncertain. It took him a moment, one long moment of studying Merlin, searching his eyes and what was in them, but he nodded.

"Yes," he answered, nodding as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I do."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this sometime at the beginning of last year, but due to lack of interest on this site... I got behind in my posting. After a gentle reminder that I hadn't finished posting, I decided to upload the rest of the fic. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!!!

The journey back to Camelot had been almost as quiet as the journey to the Castle of Havlor. The only time the pair rested long enough to make camp was when they had finally reached the other side of the Forest of Brégnes, pure exhaustion winning out and making it impossible to go on any further. After all, they both knew they couldn't risk remaining in the forest for too long, not with the creatures there, constantly watching them, waiting for an opening.

Both Merlin and Arthur refused to give them one, pushing themselves on despite each heavy footstep that weighed them down.

So once they were out of the forest, the sky dark overhead, they rested uneasily until the morning came and brought the sun with it. Then they were moving again, back on the horses and racing off towards Camelot – back to Gwen.

"We need to get these straight to Gaius," Merlin voiced, tugging at his satchel a little. Inside the satchel was the key to everything, several of the Cwealm, along with the small vial containing what remained of the cure.

Arthur nodded as the two rode through the open gates and on into Camelot. After that, everything was a rush, no time to pause or think. They brought their horses to a halt within the courtyard outside of the castle and several servants rushed forward to take care of the tired animals as both Arthur and Merlin jumped down.

"Sire!" Sir Leon called from the stone steps to the castle. He was rushed down to them, followed by several others knights – though Merlin noticed Elyan was missing, no doubt watching over his sister.

"Gaius," Arthur commanded straight away, heading back up the steps to meet the knights halfway before moving on passed and on into the castle. "Have him meet us at his chambers immediately."

"I believe he's already there, Sire," Leon answered, coming to stop to allow Merlin to pass also.

"Is there anything else we can do, Sire?" Gwaine questioned, falling in step beside Merlin.

Arthur shook his head, strides long as he continued on. "Just return to your duties and be sure to be on guard." At that, he turned his head a little, meeting Merlin's eyes. "Hurry up, Merlin – we don't have time for your dillydallying."

Merlin let go of a heavy sigh and shot an exhausted smile to Gwaine briefly before quickening his pace to catch up with Arthur. The knights fell behind, doing as Arthur had ordered and returning to what they had been doing before the pair had returned.

"Are you sure about this, Merlin?" Arthur asked, his voice hushed, almost conspiratorial.

"Gaius is the best physician you'll find anywhere," Merlin answered. "If anyone can recreate the cure, he can."

Again, Arthur nodded, returning to his stoic silence once more, his lips thinned and brow burrowed in deep thought. Merlin watched him, knowing it was pure faith that kept the young king moving. Merlin just hoped he was right, if not, then he truly feared the consequences of his actions. He could already feel the pit forming in his stomach, the same pit that had formed upon Uther's death.

The door to Gaius' chambers was open and Gaius looked up from his potions as they entered, his glasses poised on the end of his nose.

"My Lord! Merlin..." he greeted, pushing up immediately and moving around the table to meet the pair as they entered the room. "Did you find it?"

Arthur remained silent, so Merlin spoke for him, digging into his bag to pull out the red bugs he had stored there, along with the vial. "I had to use it on Arthur," he explained, placing all the items on the table. "But we know that these insects were used to make the poison."

Gaius nodded, considering the insects. "The missing ingredient."

"I'm sorry?" Arthur questioned, his head cocking to the side.

"I've been studying the poison, Sire, trying to identify its components," Gaius answered, moving back to his table and the several bits of paper and potions that sat there. "However, there was one component I could not identify and without knowing what it was, I had no way of making a cure."

"And now?" Arthur pried. "Is it possible now?"

Gaius nodded, thoughtful and careful. "I should think so – though..."

"What?"

The old physician's eyes met Merlin's briefly before moving to meet Arthur's, hesitation lining his features. "If the poison used on Gwen was enhanced with magic, then I fear magic may also be needed for the cure..."

Arthur nodded, his gaze finding Merlin. "Merlin?"

Merlin understood clearly and bobbed his head in answer. "I'll bring it to you as soon as it's ready."

Inclining his head in acknowledge, Arthur turned and swept from the room, leaving to return to Gwen's side once more. Merlin watched him go before turning to Gaius, awaiting instructions.

"What can I do to help?" he questioned, but received a puzzled expression in return.

"Did I miss something?" Gaius asked instead, brow burrowed and eyes narrowed on Merlin as he studied him carefully, almost suspiciously.

"Let's just say you were right," Merlin answered, bright and impish.

"Right? Right about what?"

But Merlin just smiled and moved toward the table. "I'll explain it later, but first we need to cure Gwen."

* * *

Arthur sat upon Gwen's bed, one hand clasping hers as he used his other to brush away the strands of hair from her face. Elyan had excused himself not long before, choosing to allow Arthur some time alone with Gwen. Arthur was grateful. He was grateful for the chance to allow his defences to fall, to not have to be the King, the strong leader who didn't falter, didn't give in to weaknesses and always stood tall and proud.

Tears stung at his eyes and he tried to swallow them back but they slipped free to roll down his cheeks regardless.

"Guinevere," he breathed out, leaning down to place his lips upon her forehead, placing a gentle kiss on her skin before pulling back. "Merlin will be here any moment with the cure... So live for me, Gwen. I can't lose you."

He waited with her, watching over her until Merlin did come, with a clatter and a bang – the door colliding with the wall as it was thrown open.

"I've got it," the manservant announced, glass vial in his hand. He moved forward and held the vial out.

Arthur looked to him, met his eyes, a plea in his own. He didn't say anything, didn't ask for anymore reassurances, and Merlin gave him none, at least not out loud. But it was written in his eyes, pure determination and confidence. It was a look Arthur had come to know well on Merlin, one Merlin always seemed to wear even when Arthur felt himself gripped by doubt – like Merlin knew something Arthur didn't. And maybe he did.

Taking the vial, Arthur removed the cork and turned back to Gwen. He slipped his free hand behind her head to raise it gently, then held the vial to Gwen's lips. Slowly, the liquid slipped into her mouth and Arthur watched, waiting for a reaction.

For the longest time, there was nothing. Even when the last drop had gone, there was no reaction from Gwen. She remained as still as she had been, as peaceful and at rest. Arthur lifted his gaze to Merlin, helpless.

"It's not working," he whispered, the words hoarse in his throat.

Merlin shook his head and took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Gwen. "Just give it a moment. It has to work." Then he moved his gaze to Arthur, his tone pleading and desperate as Arthur saw the first tiny glimmer of doubt in his friend's eyes. "Arthur..."

"I can't lose her, Merlin," Arthur answered, turning his attention back to Gwen and looking down at her all too delicate features, so fragile. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, another tear slipping from his eye to run down his cheek and fall onto hers. With the same tenderness, he closed his eyes and pushed his lips to hers, leaving a plea upon them when he pulled away. "Guinevere, please..."

Silence followed, thick and heavy, until it was broken by the smallest of noises. A gentle cough and groan.

Arthur looked to Gwen, meeting her eyes just as she opened them. A frown began to form at her lips as she looked up to him, questioning. "Arthur?" she breathed out, before pushing up a little to take in the room and Merlin also. "Merlin? What's going on?"

A smile broke out onto Arthur's features and he pulled Gwen into an embrace, burying his face into her soft hair and breathing her in. He couldn't answer her, not just yet, he was far too busy basking in the fact that she was alive. He would explain it all later; tell her everything... at least, almost everything. There were still some things he needed to sort out first, though that too would wait until later, when Arthur could bring himself to let go of Gwen once more.

"Arthur?" she questioned, surprise filling her voice, along with a light laugh.

He pulled back, if only to see the smile that he knew would be gracing her lips, to memorise each line and curve of her features.

"I'll leave you two alone," Merlin spoke up from behind and Arthur turned to thank him with a nod.

Yes, he thought to himself as he watched Merlin leave, all business would wait until later. For now, he would just enjoy the fact that Gwen was alive and in his arms.

* * *

After leaving Gwen and Arthur alone, giving them some space and time, Merlin found his way to the castle steps. He took a seat on them and looked out across the courtyard. Everything had died down since the feast and the incident, everything seemed quieter but the people still milled about, moving from place to place, getting on with things, just like before. Merlin watched them idly but paid no particular attention, his mind elsewhere.

Many thoughts washed over his mind, refusing to settle long enough for him to truly think them through. Morgana was among them, as was Arthur. Both knew now, who Merlin was. It made him wonder if things would change and if so, how much?

He kept wondering and thinking things over until the sun began to set and the orange and pink of dusk began to tinge the sky. The lack of sun, as the shadows grew longer, brought a chill to the air and Merlin shivered and pushed himself up, knowing it was time to return indoors.

He made it halfway toward his chambers before he was stopped, Gwaine calling out to him.

"Merlin!" the roughish knight shouted, setting off at a brief run to catch up. "I've been looking for you."

Merlin paused in his steps and narrowed his eyes, questioning. "No..." he answered, cautiously, already thinking of what it was that Gwaine was about to ask of him.

"You don't even know what I was about to say," Gwaine replied, mock offence playing on his tone.

"You want a drinking buddy for the tavern," Merlin hazarded a guess, raising his eyebrows at the knight.

A sly smile slipped onto Gwaine's features. "I've already got that covered – made a bet with Percival that I could drink him under the table. Poor guy doesn't know what he's letting himself in for."

"Then why are you looking for me?" Merlin asked, still cautious as he considered the knight.

"Arthur," Gwaine answered immediately. "He sent me to fetch you, probably wants a nice hot bath or something."

Merlin nodded and let go of a lengthy breath, retracing his steps to head back toward Arthur's rooms. "Looks like food will have to wait then."

"Hey, Merlin," Gwaine called once more, stopping Merlin in his tracks. "Is everything okay?"

A grin lit up Merlin's face. "I'll let you know once I've found out what Arthur wants."

At that, he turned away once more, leaving Gwaine to find Percival and attempt to win his bet.

The closer he got to Arthur's rooms, the more Merlin's pace slowed. He was hesitant, almost reluctant, to find out what it was that the young king wanted with him – not because he didn't want to be presented with chores, but because he knew what was coming. He and Arthur hadn't truly had a chance to discuss the consequences of the revelation, the 'what would happen next', and that was why Merlin took a deep breath before entering Arthur's room.

"Sire," he greeted, closing the door behind him and coming to a stop in the centre of the floor. He looked out, toward Arthur as the young king turned away from the window to regard him.

"Merlin," Arthur answered, his features heavy in the way they always were when he had been thinking things over.

"What can I do for you?"

Arthur moved to stand beside his table, his gaze searching over the parchments and various other items that lay there as he spoke. "We need to talk."

Merlin swallowed thickly, then nodded. "About my magic..."

Arthur didn't need to answer, they both already knew that was exactly it. So instead, he raised his eyes and met Merlin's, holding his gaze. "For as long as I have known, magic has been banned in Camelot. I... I can't just lift a ban that has been in place for years and allow magic to suddenly be permitted again, too many would take advantage of such an action – Morgana certainly would."

Merlin nodded once more, hanging his head. "I understand," he answered, forcing the words out as his heart tightened within his chest. "I'll leave Camelot tonight... return to Ealdor."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur spat out, and when Merlin raised his gaze, it was to see puzzlement on Arthur's features.

But really, it was Merlin who was confused. "You're banishing me... aren't you?" he asked, uncertain.

"You, _Mer_ lin, are a complete idiot." Arthur shook his head and rounded the table before leaning back against is. "Tell me, what good would it do to banish the only good sorcerer in the whole of Camelot?"

"You're not banishing me then?"

"No, Merlin, I'm not banishing you." Arthur let go of a breath and ran his hands across his face before continuing on. "I can't just change the law, not overnight, but I can make it fairer. I can make it so that those who use magic for good are not punished. In time, I hope this will bring freedom back to magic and those who use it. In time... I hope it will atone for my father's sins... and my own."

"Arthur..."

Arthur's eyes found Merlin wounded side, lingering there for a moment before meeting Merlin's eyes once more. "Merlin, I'm sorry... if I had known..."

"But you didn't," Merlin answered simply, offering up a smile. After a moment he cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Will that be all, Sire?"

"Well, there is one last thing," Arthur answered, an air of loftiness returning to his voice as his eyes shone with mischief and teasing. "If I ever find out that you have used magic on me, and if you ever do, I will have you in the stocks for week."

"Use magic on you, Sire?" Merlin answered, innocent, a grin spreading across his face. "I would _never_!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Merlin, if I find out you're lying to me..."

"You'll have me strung up and flogged?"

"I was going to say I'd have you thrown in the cells, but I think I like that idea better."

"Then it's probably best that I go before I give you anymore ideas." Before Arthur could reply, Merlin spun on his heels and moved toward the door. He paused there for a moment, and looked back toward the blond. "Arthur... thank you."

A smile played at Arthur's lips, even as he rolled his eyes and let go of a light scoff. "Just remember, Merlin – now you have no excuse for slacking in your duties."

"Of course not, _Sire_ ," Merlin answered, lips thinning into a tight smile as he turned back to the door once more.

But apparently, Arthur wasn't quite done yet. "Oh... and Merlin, don't even think of running away to Ealdor. I am making myself responsible for you and your magic, and I would rather not have to hunt you down and bring you back to Camelot."

At that, Merlin smiled, not so much at the words themselves, but at the deeper meaning beneath them, hidden in the depths of Arthur's eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sire."

"Good, because Camelot could use someone with your talents," Arthur answered, clearing his throat a little and bobbing his head. "Now... you are dismissed. Go rest, you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow."

"So no day off then?"

"Don't push it, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "I'm just saying, I mean I can't remember the last day off I had and we have just got back from that really, _really_ long journey – I still can't feel my legs properly."

"If you're even one second late," Arthur began to answer, his tone far too sweet and his smile deadly, "I'll make it so it's not just your legs that you can't feel properly, sorcerer or not."

Merlin bowed his head, mischief playing across his own features, and took his leave.

The smile stayed on his lips all the way to his chambers, the weight on his shoulders lighter than it had felt in a long time. Everything was falling into place, everything the dragon had told him. Arthur was king, and a good one at that, and he had accepted Merlin for who he was, and in part, had accepted magic.

Though perhaps, Merlin thought to himself, it would probably be too soon to introduce Arthur to the dragon... That would take a little more time.


End file.
